


Tener Duende

by flamiekitten



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, The Shape of Water (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amputation, Animal Death, Blood and Violence, Crossover, Eventual Smut, Experimentation, Feral Sidon, Link Uses Sign Language, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Mute Link, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Shape of Water AU, Slow Burn, Torture, Work In Progress, not abandoned i'm just very slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-03-07 05:03:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13427373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamiekitten/pseuds/flamiekitten
Summary: In the far reaches of the Faron jungle, a creature of the water has lived in peaceful tandem with the nearby human community for many years. When knowledge of his ability to heal even fatal wounds falls into the wrong hands, this peace is swiftly shattered. Snatched away from the only home he's ever known and held under lock and key and watchful eye, it seems as though he will never return to the life he once knew.Until he meets the one, the prince without a voice, who is determined to set him free.





	1. Canción de la Tormenta

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a faithful retelling of Guillermo del Toro's 'The Shape of Water', nor is it strictly canon compliant with the events and characters of 'The Legend of Zelda: The Breath of the Wild'. 
> 
> This is a love letter to both. 
> 
> Forgive my artistic liberties and fanciful embellishments -- a lot of this is probably for my personal enjoyment. But I hope you come to enjoy it too. ♥

Thunder growled like a cornered beast, occasionally provoked into lashing out with claws of lightning that cleaved the sky in two. Fat raindrops crash-landed on the backs of leaves, forcing them to bow down so that the rain could conclude its journey upon the sodden ground. The very air was thick, textured; almost a living thing itself with both body and soul.

He stood on the flooded banks of the river with his face tilted towards the sky. Rain hammered down on the surface of the water and became one with it, swelling the river far beyond its usual boundaries. It lapped at his feet invitingly, trying to coax him back into the depths.

For once, he was not listening.

Face remained tilted, streaked with drops that then had to run a gauntlet of scales along the length of his body. Breath misted out as steam from between parted lips, quickly dissipating into the heavy air. Utterly intoxicating.

Without warning, the world was illuminated by a dazzling fork of lightning that imprinted a lasting sunburst across his vision. The resulting snarl of thunder -- instant and _close_ \-- was enough to make the ground rumble, but still not enough to drown out the near-distant sounds of screaming and pleading.

 _That_ prompted immediate action.

On land, he was somewhat awkward. In the water, he was another creature entirely. Legs that struggled with running worked perfectly for swimming, coming firmly together so that his large, webbed feet could act almost like the tail of a seal or a dolphin. Or a mermaid. The "fin" that hung down from the back of his head played the part of a rudder, allowing him to make quick turns at a moment's notice.

He plowed upstream as though unable to feel the powerful, storm-fed current that pushed back at his body with all its might. Even debris could not stop him; a lightning-charred tree trunk passed over harmlessly as he dived down to the riverbed. Single-minded determination in physical form. 

When he surfaced again, he'd reached his destination. The village was in turmoil: wooden huts sporting collapsed roofs and smashed walls, trees split and sagging, livestock scattered and panicked. The wailing pierced through even the wind and rain; an anguished cry of fear. Humans huddled miserably beneath ruined shelters, adults shielding children with their bodies as though to protect them from the next strike. 

It was a child who spotted him when he first emerged from the water, pointing and calling out in their language to alert the rest of the villagers. He was greeted -- not with fear, but with gratitude. They beckoned him over and directed him, respectfully keeping their distance despite their desperation and taking great pains not to touch him. He towered over even the tallest adult, walking carefully on the leaf-littered and slippery pathways towards the source of their pain.

It was one of the least damaged huts, still standing strong in its refusal to bend to either wind or rain. Inside, those he recognised to be the village leader and their healer, kneeling over a prone body. He pressed forwards and they quickly rose, stepping aside -- hands clasped together, posture and eyes pleading -- so that he might be granted access, crouching down in their place. It was a young female. 

Even without his superior sense of smell (it dulled a little above water) the scent of charred flesh and singed hair dominated. She was still alive, though her breathing was shallow and filled with pain, her teeth and fists clenched tight. A red-pink spider's web of patterning had spread down the length of her body: from neck, to breast, to stomach. Lightning strike. Not usually fatal, but... 

He spread a webbed palm across half of her chest and could instantly detect the problem. Her pulse fluttered weakly -- and worse, irregularly -- having been knocked out of rhythm by the strike’s fury. The lightning flowers would fade and her hair and brows would regrow and her burnt flesh would heal all in time, but her heart... 

Her heart would need a little help.

Eyes shuttered closed and breathing haltered until he shared time with the injured female, inhaling and expelling air at the same pace. Gradually, all surrounding noise faded into nothing more than a background hum: rain, wind, and whispers blending into one. Energy thrummed through his veins, a power that manifested itself as a subtle, greenish glow descending through his extended forearm and emerging from the palm that laid flat against her chest. The glow filtered through her skin and she was briefly illuminated in turn.

It was all over in a few moments.

Her tight face eased, jawline relaxing as she ceased grinding her teeth together. Lying loose and limp in the pallet, it might have appeared that she had passed on -- were it not for the steady rise and fall of her chest. The beat that drummed beneath his palm was already much, much stronger: it was the beat of a heart with the will to live. 

Withdrawing his hand again, he stood. His hammerhead crown very nearly brushed the ceiling of the hut as he rose to his full height, the last of the glow fading away until only crimson red remained. Both chief and healer regarded him, eyes brimming with gratitude, offering him words of thanks that were recognisable even to someone unable to reply beyond a lingering look. They did not stop him from leaving. 

When he stepped back outside, it was the _absence_ of sound that was striking. The storm had finally broken, leaving behind a fine, misty rain and a trail of destruction. When he tilted his face skywards, the gentle droplets caressed his features. 

His gills fluttered; it was time to return to the water.

Leaving the way he came, he saw the humans already getting to work to restore some semblance of order to their home. It was difficult not to admire their tenacity and their desire to not only survive, but thrive. They did not need his assistance with this; the village would be rebuilt in no time. 

He walked amongst them, the welcomed outsider, but this was not his domain. 

While his departure was watched closely, the villagers were too busy to do much more than offer him a wave before returning to the task at hand. For his part, he did not stop either. The burning sensation that raked at his gills with every breath created a sense of urgency that he dare not ignore. The overflowing river babbled happily, beckoning to him in a language without words -- the one language he spoke fluently. 

This time, he heeded the water’s call.


	2. Nocturno de la Sombra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you have probably already noticed, in homage to del Toro I have included a little Spanish throughout the fic, most notably in the title and chapter names. I myself am not a native Spanish speaker and have relied on the help of my partner (whose Spanish is very rusty) and the Internet for help. As such, if you have noticed any errors please feel free to (gently!) let me know and I will happily update the fic with the correct translation/s. Thank you!
> 
> [Warning for depictions of violence, blood, etc. in this chapter.]

They had not been expecting another visitor, let alone three. But when the sun rose, so did they -- and they rose to find company in their midst.

While his companions were unremarkable -- they'd seen their fair share of pale-skinned Hylian folk -- most striking was the leader's passing resemblance to the river dweller they called a friend. He was extremely tall and powerfully built, with a wild mane of blood red hair and sharp, amber eyes. There the resemblance ended, for of course this man was no creature of the water. Several amongst the village recognised him as belonging to the desert people: a Gerudo.

Conversation was held in Hylian, that increasingly more widespread and ubiquitous tongue. The Gerudo requested a meeting with their chief, promising fortunate news, and won a little favour when he instructed his companions to assist with the reconstruction efforts. He was granted access to the chief's hut, and folded down onto his knees before the older man.

His introduction was simple and without fanfare: ‘My name is Ganon.’

‘What brings you to our village, Ganon?’ If the chief seemed tired, it was because he was. An excusable condition, considering the circumstances. ‘We are ill-suited to receiving guests at this current time.’

A young woman sat in the corner of the room, slowly sipping water from a half coconut shell. Ganon paid her a cursory glance before returning his attention to the chief.

‘It is with regards to your plight that I am here. Last night's storm was no natural occurrence.’

‘ _Invocantis_ …’ the chief muttered, face hardening. ‘But I suppose you know it by a different name.’

‘Thunder wizzrobe,’ Ganon supplied. ‘Three of them, in fact.’

The young woman's breath stuttered at the one, recognisable word she'd heard leave the chief's lips, drawing immediate attention. He was by her side in an instant, a weathered hand cupping her youthful face, eyes searching for any hint of pain or difficulty.

‘My eldest daughter,’ he said, glancing backwards over his shoulder, ‘was struck by lightning yesterday. The damage done is consistent with the might of the _invocantis_. My people will not be pleased to hear that three are living so close by.’

‘Ah.’ Ganon lifted a finger and wagged it from side to side, a self-satisfied smile doing little to brighten his rugged features. ‘Three were living close by. That is what me and my men came to tell you. We eradicated the wizzrobe and put an end to their storm.’

The chief's eyes noticeably widened and he slowly drew back to his feet, staring down at Ganon with open disbelief.

‘You killed the _invocantis_? Do you have proof?’

‘Other than the storm's abrupt end?’ Ganon raised a terse brow but quickly allowed his expression to settle again when the chief's face visibly tensed. ‘Of course.’

Reaching down to his side, the Gerudo fetched an unusual -- yet instantly recognisable -- device. Vaguely resembling a jagged bolt of lightning forged with the handle of a bladed weapon, it glowed and crackled as Ganon slowly swished it from left to right. A thunderstorm rod -- the very thing used by wizzrobe to summon their deadly weather. No living wizzrobe would concede their iconic weapon, so that could only mean…

‘My companions each have their own thunderstorm rod.’

The chief nodded, standing beside his daughter.

‘I thank you on the behalf of our people for the great service you have committed.’ He pressed a hand over his heart. ‘Do you and your men desire any kind of reward for your efforts? We don't have much to offer, but I am willing to give anything I am able to give.’

Ganon smiled and returned the rod to its place on his hip. He gestured towards the chief's daughter and then laughed when they both stiffened.

‘Peace! _That_ is not what I meant. I just wanted to ask if your daughter was healing well. A lightning strike is no walk in the park, especially when forged by malicious magic. If you'd like, I can bring her to the healers in Hyrule.’

The chief's own smile was tight, and he shook his head.

‘You have done enough for us. And besides, my daughter is recovering well. We were aided by a great friend of ours.’

Ganon’s eyes glittered with interest.

‘A “great friend”?’

+++

He couldn't remember falling asleep, but it was certainly late morning when he roused again.

Dappled sunlight filtered through the canopies to heat the shallows and caress his scales with its warmth; a gentle embrace. Lifting his head above the surface, he listened to the chirrup and whistle of birdsong and the thick hum of insects. His powerful, flipper-like feet slowly tread back and forth to keep him bobbing in place -- all of last night’s energy nowhere to be found. Even the motion of his gills tended towards the languorous, steadily drawing water in and out with no sense of urgency.

He had no way of admitting it out loud, but the act of healing another certainly took it out of him.

His sister had never struggled so.

The distinct _crack_ of a branch snapping had him ducking back down into the depths, all senses on red alert. It could have been nothing more than the tread of an animal, but there was no harm in being overly wary.

Humans other than those from the village tended to react poorly towards him.

Abruptly, a familiar sound caught his attention: a rapid splashing, similar to that of a panicked fish, at the far side of the lake. Instincts were roused at the possibility of food, although reason still advised caution. He poked his head above the water, secondary eyelids shuttering.

It was the chief, rapidly slapping the surface with the palm of his hand. He wasn't alone.

While he recognised one of the humans in his company -- a guard from the village -- the third man was a tall stranger with bright red hair.

Even at this distance, their eyes met. Amber and gold.

Curiosity won out, bolstered by the familiar presence of the chief. He began his approach.

+++

‘He’s coming.’ The chief sat back on his heels, beckoning the guard over. ‘ _La canasta, por favor._ ’

The woven basket was handed over, brimming with fresh-caught fish. Bowing his head, the chief murmured a few words before placing it onto the water's surface.

‘Prayers?’ asked Ganon, standing with both arms folded over his chest.

‘Gratitudes,’ the chief replied.

Fed by a mighty river, the lake itself had a current that carried the basket along with ease. Its journey was intercepted, however, by a large webbed hand that gripped the edge and dragged it closer. Despite himself, Ganon’s breath caught at this closer glimpse of the creature in all its strangeness. A mouth full of jagged teeth, fingers tipped with thick claws, the monstrous shape of its head…

It consumed the fish one-by-one. Whole. Bones and all.

‘Does it have a name?’

‘He does not speak. If he has a name, he has never told us. We call him _nuestro amigo_ \-- “our friend”.’

‘Hm.’

They watched in silence as the creature devoured all six fish with ease, not leaving so much as a scale behind. After it was done, it stared over at them with-- what? expectation? animal curiosity?

Ganon stepped off the bank and waded down to his ankles, lake mud clinging to his boots. The fins that framed the creature's face twitched with noticeable alarm and it kicked backwards a few feet, looking on the verge of disappearing again. The Gerudo paused and glanced back over his shoulder at the chief, who had gotten to his feet with mild concern.

‘It’s frightened?’

‘We don't seek him out. He comes when we need him.’

‘Ah, of course.’ Ganon stepped back onto land, wiping the soles of his boots onto the abundant grass as he came to stand by the other man once more. He resumed staring out at the creature, one hand rested on his hip. The chief visibly relaxed, relieved that no further action had been taken. ‘To heal. And you said it's capable of healing _any_ injury?’

The chief smiled.

‘He is very wonderful, isn't he?’

Ganon smiled.

‘Very wonderful indeed.’

In a motion almost too quick to follow, he turned and slashed the dagger across the chief's throat.

+++

Time stuttered, forcing him to watch the act in excruciatingly slow motion. The hand at the hip, shifting almost imperceptibly to wrap around the weapon's hilt. The all-too-practiced twist of the body, lending the momentum that would allow the blade to arch smoothly. The dull gurgle of shock and pain, signalling the irrevocable damage that had been dealt.

Every nerve, every muscle in his body screamed warning of the obvious danger, but all was overridden in favour of the devastating knowledge that someone -- _a friend?_ \-- would die if he didn't do anything.

When he burst up onto the bank, teeth bared and frills flared, his immediate desire was to physically remove the stranger's head from his shoulders. He was grappling with the guard, whose face was contorted with rage and anguish -- a fight he could have ended single-handedly. The iron stink of blood was the only thing that stopped him in his tracks, snapping his attention over to the body on the ground.

The chief: his life blood spilling out into the lake, staining the waters red.

He hissed -- almost primal in his anger -- and entrusted the stranger's fate to the guard. Carefully, almost tenderly, he cupped the back of the chief's head and propped him up out of the mud. There was so much blood. The human’s eyes were open, but much of the light had already left them. Still, that faint spark carried a glimmer of recognition in them.

Sadness. Regret. Guilt.

Lips fluttered and a croak of a voice emerged, but even if he had been able to hear he could not understand. He held up his other palm -- that universal gesture for _stop_ \-- and then tried to settle into that state of concentration necessary for healing. Wrapping his hand around that ugly wound as though to physically seal the skin back together, to force back the blood that was now pouring all over his scales.

The magic was slow in coming. He was still spent from healing the female’s heart, his reserves of power depleted. If _she_ had been here in his place--

\--it was working. The green glow, bright and fresh with life, ignited beneath his skin and trickled down to where it was directed. Exertion furrowed his brow and grit his serrated teeth, gills pumping frantically in their attempt to fuel his trembling body with oxygen. The chief's wound was beginning to knit together; he could feel the torn flesh stretching and connecting beneath his palm.

Hope reared its hesitant head.

Abruptly, the chief's hand gripped his wrist with surprising strength. He followed the line of sight: the human was staring up straight past his shoulder at something directly behind.

Betrayal. Anger. _Fear_.

Rage emerged in the form of a snarl as he whipped around to face the cause of this misery, looking for a throat to sink his teeth into. Amber eyes met his show of aggression without so much as blinking. That thin smile was devoid of any real warmth or humour: only deep self-satisfaction.

The air crackled with electricity.

It was the lightest touch, the barest graze. But the moment it made contact with his soft belly scales, pain unlike anything he'd experienced before coursed through every inch of his body. Everything went white, then black. All he could see was the imprint of that empty smile, carved deep into his fading consciousness.

And then no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we have our Strickland character. I haven't actually played much of the games where he features (other than as, you know, the literal embodiment of evil) so forgive me if he's wildly off the mark. This Ganon is certainly younger than any of his canon iterations and perhaps a little darker/more unhinged as a result? He's delightfully terrible -- and terribly delightful -- to write either way.
> 
> Thank you for reading. My current "schedule" is to post each chapter once the subsequent one is completed, so hopefully you won't be waiting too long between updates. ♥


	3. Melodía del Transcurrir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your lovely comments, kudos, and patience! Here is a third chapter for you all. ♥
> 
> Quick question! I was thinking of grabbing an image of the BotW Hyrule map and marking out the important locations of things/the characters' journeys as we go along. Would anyone be interested in that? I might do it for my own sake because I enjoy those sorts of visuals, but I was wondering if you guys would like it too. ♥
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> [Warning for depictions of violence, blood, etc. in this chapter.]

Months of research and planning had finally culminated into a stunning success.

Ganon stood over the twitching monster, toeing its side with the tip of his boot, as he twirled the thunderstorm rod in his hand. He hadn’t expected to be able to take down such a creature with just a single shot of ball lightning, but the information was both a pleasant and reassuring revelation.

Knowing that he would get an earful from the researchers back home if he’d managed to kill the thing they’d sent him out to collect, he thought it best to check the creature’s vials. Touching its damp, scaly skin was mildly revolting, but Ganon considered himself a professional man. And besides, he’d dealt with far worse before. Its heart was still pumping blood, gills still drawing in oxygen. Not dead, just unconscious -- like the guard he’d left slumped in a bush.

The same could not be said of the barely-breathing village leader, whose healing he’d so rudely interrupted. Satisfied that the creature was neither about wake up or die, Ganon spared a moment for the struggling chief. The man’s throat and chest were awash with sticky blood, but the wound itself was surprisingly minimised. Though he'd heard all the rumours about the creature's abilities, seeing the effects in person was another thing entirely.

‘Fascinating.’

He extended a finger to prod at the wound, only to be weakly batted away by the dying man's hand. Ganon laughed. ‘And here I thought you were done for, old man! How about it, chief? Fancy a trip to see Hyrule’s finest healers now?’

‘ _Eres un monstruo,_ ’ the chief muttered thickly, blood dripping down his chin.

‘Ah, no, that would be your “friend” here,’ the Gerudo replied, patting the stunned creature. ‘Don’t worry -- where it’s going, it’s going to be helping a lot more people. You should be overjoyed! Wouldn’t you say it was a little _selfish_ , keeping such a blessing all to yourselves?’

Sounds of movement prevented further conversation, as Ganon glanced over his shoulder to witness the approach of his two Hylian companions on the backs of uncertain-looking horses, leading a third. They offered him a salute as they approached, before dismounting and getting straight to work.

‘They’re waiting for us by the Sarjon Woods, sir,’ one said, pulling a length of rope from his belt pouch and quickly restraining the creature’s loose limbs, first binding wrists and then ankles with deft knotwork. ‘The cart has been fully prepared for transportation of the creature.’

‘And the villagers?’ Ganon asked.

‘Getting restless, sir. They’re bound to notice our absence soon.’

‘Well then, we’d better make this quick.’ Ganon did not seem hurried, however. As the two Hylians struggled to manipulate the creature between the two of them, he turned his attention back to the stricken chief. It was difficult to tell if his skin was pale from blood loss or shock. Likely both. ‘I suppose this is goodbye.’

‘You already knew about him,’ the man croaked, hands clenching uselessly. ‘You already _knew_.’

Ganon raised both shoulders and palms in a gesture of false innocence. He got up onto his feet and began to assist his men, immediately demonstrating that his powerful build was not just for show. With his help, the creature was dragged up from the ground and then hefted up over one shoulder like fresh kill, bound legs dangling over his chest. Even with the weight of the monster on his back, Ganon was able to offer a mocking bow with a hand pressed over his heart. 

‘Hyrule thanks you for your cooperation.’

Flanked by the Hylians, Ganon made his way back over to the horses. The chief could not tear his eyes away from the creature’s face, so strangely peaceful in his “sleep”. Grief threatened to overwhelm the man at the thought of him waking up betrayed -- and alone.

‘ _Lo siento, mi amigo_.’ He was weakening, eyes closing. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’

With the creature safely secured on the flanks of one of the horses, the three riders departed without so much as a glance backwards.

Silence fell over the lake.

+++

Dimly, distantly, he became aware of the sensation of motion. A back-and-forth rocking like the ebb and flow of the tide, coaxing consciousness back into loose limbs and restoring a sense of _self_. Only, there was something disorientating about the water’s sway, something _too_ regular -- almost… artificial.

When his eyes snapped open, he was met with only darkness. That was no immediate cause for concern -- the deepest parts of the lake were often pitch black in the nighttime. What swiftly became unnerving was the lack of even a pinprick of light when he gazed upwards.

... Was that upwards?

Between the constant rocking of the water and the darkness of his surroundings, he’d lost all sense of direction and position. The only thing he was completely certain of was the fact that he was surrounded by water. Panic spurred him forwards, swimming blind with arms outstretched, only to slam painfully into a smooth, flat, rock solid surface. He tried another direction, only to meet with the same result. And again, and again, until his already-aching body could take no more repeated collisions.

His gills fluttered rapidly and he could feel the frantic dance of his pulse in his throat.

This was not his lake, this was not his home--

Abruptly, the image of _that smile_ crashed into the forefront of his mind and everything clicked into place. The chief, the stranger. The dagger, the blood. The electricity, the pain.

It all made perfect, terrible sense: he'd been captured.

Outrage and terror joined hand-in-hand to lend him the strength required to slam against the solid surface, this time with the intention of breaking it. Driving his shoulder into the barrier time and time again produced nothing more than a dull _thud, thud, thud_ , a jarring sensation in his shoulder and collar bones -- and the muffled sounds of yelling.

There was an abrupt halt, causing the water to sway even more dramatically and throwing him off balance. He was unprepared for the bright burst of light that assaulted his senses as a pair of doors were thrown open, offering him a tantalising glimpse of green before he was momentarily blinded. Spots danced before his eyes as he struggled to adjust, taking in hazy images of distorted, angry faces as they surrounded him. He was upside-down.

A flash of red immediately caught his attention and his teeth automatically flashed in a hiss of anger, webbed feet kicking so that he could right himself. He was face-to-face with the red-haired human, separated only by the transparent wall of the container. A wall with a hairline crack running down the length of it.

The human ran his finger down the length of the crack. He did not look pleased. A clenched fist was raised to smack against the surface again, only to be stopped in its tracks as the human pulled a suspicious-looking item from his hip.

The moment it crackled with electricity was the moment he backed away as far as physically possible, pressing up against the far side of the container. A smirk twitched across the human's lips as he gently, deliberately, tapped the rod against the wall. It fizzed and glowed ominously.

There was no doubting the meaning behind that gesture.

He dared not approach again.

+++

The monster regarded him with the kind of animal wariness you might expect: once bitten, twice shy. Ganon tapped the thunderstorm rod against the tank a final time, gratified by the flinch of fear that jolted the creature's body. It was intelligent enough to understand threats -- that would make things considerably easier.

The three scientists were sounding harangued, anxiously hovering by Ganon's sides with their incessant cucco clucking. Though he conceded the position to them, he remained standing to the side with his arms folded -- keeping the rod plainly visible.

The tank had only ever been designed as a temporary residence for the creature: a cube of metal and glass fitted into an ordinary-looking cart. Though their leaps and bounds into the research of ancient Sheikah technology had allowed them to produce incredibly strong, reinforced materials, it would seem that they had not yet reached perfection.

‘Will it hold?’ came the rumble of Ganon's voice from up above their heads. ‘Or are we going to end up with a lapful of _very_ pissed off monster?’

Unlike the Hylian soldiers, who had undying respect and loyalty for their Gerudo Captain, the scientists made no secret of their open dislike for his somewhat… _heavy-handed_ methods. One such scientist sniffed dismissively, pulling out a pocket-sized Slate so that she could analyze the damage.

‘The specimen is much, ah, stronger than anticipated,’ she admitted, eyes skimming over the data that was reported back to her. ‘We can repair the crack, but it would be preferable if the specimen was, mmmm, deferred from attempting something like that again. We can place sedatives in the food, but just to be safe....’ Her eyes lit up, gaze directed towards the towering military man. ‘You seem confident about your methods of control, Captain Ganon. Might I suggest you ride along in the cart and just, ah, give your rod a little wave if it starts misbehaving again?’

Titters of poorly-concealed laughter were quickly stifled by the simple motion of Ganon unfolding his arms. Instead of the semi-expected rage, however, they were “treated” to one of his slow, cool smiles.

‘It was about time one of you came up with a genuinely intelligent suggestion.’

+++

Despite being only able to snatch the occasional glimpse of the world beyond those all-too-briefly opened cart doors, he was able to discern the passage of several days. Several days spent cooped up in a too-small container with only the red-haired stranger for company. The very man whose mere presence set his teeth on edge.

Said man spent all of his time sat on the floor at the side of the container, long legs crossed beneath him. Although seemingly in a trace, eyes closed and face neutral, he would soon rouse at even the smallest sound. The rod was pointedly rested across across his lap and would frequently pulse with its sickly, yellow glow -- the only light amongst oppressive darkness, but an unwelcome one. His scales shuddered with the memory of the pain it could inflict; avoiding coming into contact with it again was high on his list of priorities.

The crack he’d worked so hard to inflict upon the wall had been repaired and was seamlessly smooth and flawless once again. If he so much as rested a hand or pressed up against it, those amber eyes would flash open and fingers would curl around the hilt of that hated weapon. Fresh rage would course through him all over again and he would be unable to resist the urge to flash his teeth or flare out his fins in a gesture that he knew, deep down, was little more than posturing.

He was, to his utmost shame, afraid. Afraid of that man and the power he possessed.

Respite came in the form of those rare times when the cart would shudder to complete stop and his captors would take an extended break. During those times, one or two of the softer-looking Hylians would take the red-haired man’s place and stare at him while fiddling around with mysterious-looking devices. Words even more alien than the language of the villagers were muttered and copious notes were taken. It was all the same to him: incomprehensible and irrelevant.

Those were also the times when he would receive food, a small hatch at the top of the container lifted just long enough to drop a whole, dead or two fish inside. They were not the kind of fish he was familiar with, but he ate them just the same -- from head to tail, jagged teeth crunching through scale, flesh, and bone alike.

He always felt calmer after eating, but he could only swim in circles so many times. Restlessness made a home in his soul, filling him with the all-consuming desire to stand out in the rain, to breathe in fresh water, to ascend the length of a waterfall… Every time he closed his eyes he was assaulted by memories of home -- and of the humans who would have no idea what had happened that day.

The cart rolled to another stop and he perked up, wondering if he was about to receive a meal. But when the doors swung open this time, the world beyond them was completely unrecognisable. He floated close to the edge of the container, both palms laid flat against the surface, staring with wide eyes at his unfathomable surroundings. No trees, no grass, no sky -- only carved stone walls lined with small vessels of glowing light.

And humans. Many, many humans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know if a Gerudo male would be capable of carrying a Zora, especially one of Sidon's size, but they sure LOOK strong enough..............
> 
> I know, I know... no Link yet. But the 4th chapter is (almost!) ready and I can promise you lots and lots of Link. And their first meeting. At last. Eep. Did I mention this was slow burn? Because it's definitely slow burn.
> 
> The chapters seem to be getting longer and longer. My bad!!!
> 
> Thank you all again! See you next time.


	4. Oda al Orden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Here we go - Chapter 4! aka "The One With Link".
> 
> Link is my baby so it brought me great joy to finally be able to write him......... I think the length of the chapter reflects that, whoops.
> 
> Anyway! Thank you for all the comments, kudos, and hits as always! Please enjoy.

Right on cue, the birds began their dusk chorus. While immediately awake, Link delayed the process of _getting up_ for a few moments longer, choosing instead to take in the ensemble. In reality, there were so many different songs all plying for attention that the resulting noise was closer to a cacophony of competing voices than a “song”... but he enjoyed it as much as he did any other music.

Which is to say, entranced by the bassy hoots of the owl and the peppy chirp of the robin, he soon lost track of time 

Realisation struck and he finally unravelled himself from the messy tangle of sheets, jumping out of bed to begin his “day”. First coaxing the ancient stove into life with a haste that nearly always resulted in singed fingers (and today was no exception) he set down both a kettle and a saucepan to boil. The latter also contained three brown eggs, bobbing on the surface of the water. Crusty bread and wild boar ham were sliced and wrapped in a clean cloth, stray crumbs sucked absently from stinging fingertips, and placed in a small satchel along with a bright, red apple. Mindful of the ten or so minutes remaining before the water would finish boiling, he hastily made his other preparations.

Stepping into the washroom, he tossed his underwear to the floor and hopped into the tub. As always, there was that initial moment of trepidation when he fiddled with the knobs fixed into the wall, especially when it was immediately succeeded by a loud, groaning sound that rolled through the entire house. Link’s bravery was rewarded by a cascade of lukewarm water that thudded down onto his head, flattening his long, blond hair down to the shoulders. Visibly relieved that Purah’s invention had, yet again, failed to collapse around his ears, he soon unwound, tilting his face up towards the spray.

Nothing relaxed him like water. The drumming droplets pounded against his skin, rolling along tired muscles almost like a massage. Scrubbing himself clean in record time with a rough-hewn bar of soap granted him a few more precious minutes to enjoy himself. Right forearm propped against the wall, forehead rested on top, water streaming down his back. Left hand strayed southwards.

He was already half hard, body fully in tune with the timing of this daily ritual. Rolling his thumb over the head coaxed a muffled cry from his lips, cock stiffening against the rough skin of his palm. Link couldn't allow himself any more than a few of those slow, luxurious strokes before spurring himself on: the aim of this particular game was _speed_.

By the time the kettle's shrill whistle pierced through the other side of the wall, he was already spilling all over his closed fist, eyes tight shut and lips parted in silent gasps.

Ever faithful, the water washed all evidence away.

+++

Towel-dried and dressed in his uniform and boots, sword at his hip, Link pulled back his hair into its usual ponytail and hefted his satchel up onto his shoulder. Balancing a bowlful of food -- egg, bread, ham -- in one hand and a freshly-brewed pot of tea in the other, he made his way down the creaking wooden staircase to the floor below.

Compared to the somewhat barebones and sparsely decorated home Link had made for himself, Purah’s floor looked as though an army of bokoblin had trampled through it. Multiple times. Teetering towers of dirty dishes sat companionably with piles of books and papers, while shiny, near-black pages were clipped to criss-crossing lines like bunting stretching from wall to wall. Every available surface had some unfinished gadget or gizmo perched on top.

His arrival was greeted by a loud bang and a flash of light. Unperturbed, Link made his way over to the cluttered dining room table and carefully cleared a space with his elbow so he could set the bowl and teapot down. Moments later, Purah emerged from the kitchen coughing gently and dusting off her hands. Her already large eyes were further accentuated by the pair of oversized goggles she wore, her white hair lightly singed at the tips.

‘ _You look like an owl._ ’ Link’s hands were a flurry of motion, a grin poking at the corners of his lips.

‘An owl?’ she spluttered, pushing the goggles up onto the crown of her head and replacing them with her usual pair of red spectacles. ‘Who? _Me?_ I think that might be you, birdbrain. You overslept again, didn't you?’

An absent shrug was his answer, fingers reaching out to tug at her slightly smoking locks. She started to bat his hand away with an indignant squawk, before noticing the redness on the tips of his fingers and choosing to catch it instead. For someone so small, Purah was incredibly strong, tugging him forwards with ease so that she could scrutinise the damage.

‘ _And_ you've burnt yourself. Again. Honestly, Link, you'd think you'd take better care of your hands.’

Link gave her a pointed look, gesturing once again at her sooty hair. Relinquishing his hand again, she conceded to his point with a sigh and a shrug of her own. Her attention was soon diverted by the presence of food on the table, which Purah acknowledged with a delighted clap of the hands.

‘Oh! That's right, I forgot to make dinner again. Not that the kitchen is really suited for food preparation right now…’

‘ _How's it going?_ ’ he asked, motioning towards the kitchen. Purah, already in the process of pouring herself a cup of tea into a (was that even clean?) teacup, made a face. Link's smile was gentle -- genuine. ‘ _You'll get there_.’

‘Yeah, we'll see,’ she mumbled over the lip of her cup, 'Thank you, Link. I don't know where I'd be without you.’

Now it was Link's turn to make a face at this rare show of sincerity, a reaction that had Purah spluttering with laughter.

They made for an odd pair: the young man who talked with his hands and the woman whose childlike visage harboured an old inventor's brain.

‘Ah!’ Her teacup came down again with a noisy clatter. 'I wanted to show you something before you go.’

It was a wonder Purah could find anything in her dragon’s hoard of a home, but she unerringly managed to select a small, nondescript wooden box wedged in amongst the chaos. Presenting it to Link with a flourish, she was immediately gratified by the look of excitement that illuminated his features once he realised what it was.

‘ _You fixed it._ ’ His hands were positioned close to his body, trembling with gratitude as he flowed between signs. ‘ _May I-?_ ’ 

Her answer was to shove the box towards him, which Link then accepted carefully. Quickly locating the key embedded in the side, he gave it a few twists backwards before releasing it again. There was a few seconds of mechanical humming and whirring before it blossomed into a twinkly rendition of _The Fairy Fountain_. Closing his eyes, Link let the familiar tune wash over him, fingers tapping out the slow, gentle melody against the side of the box.

From outside came the drum of approaching hoofbeats. Purah carefully touched Link's arm, drawing him out of his reverie with a flinch.

‘Don’t be late,’ she said, wagging her finger in a manner that suited both her true age and her false appearance. 'It’ll be here when you get back.’

Reluctantly setting the box down again, Link touched his fingers first to his lips and then towards Purah: ‘ _Thank you._ ’ She waved him off, grabbing a slice of bread and meat before heading back into the kitchen. A fond smile touched the corners of his mouth.

It was time to go.

+++

The rock and sway of the merchant's cart never failed to lure him into a doze. Wrapped in his travelling cloak and propped up against the wooden strut, he watched his sleepy riverside village roll away. The lanterns attached to the side of the cart gave off a warm, orange glow that -- along with the light of the rising moon -- helped illuminate the track ahead.

The merchant, a young man by the name of Beedle, chattered animatedly as they journeyed. They’d travelled together often enough that he'd picked up enough of Link's signs for them to have a proper conversation, but usually he was content to talk while his friend listened. Sharing the ride to Castle Town was an arrangement of convenience. Link got a free ride to his place of work, while Beedle could rest easy knowing his wares would be protected from any prospective bandits lurking on the main roads.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because when they arrived at the main gates it felt like no time had passed at all. Beedle warmly clasped his shoulder and thanked Link -- with great enthusiasm, as always -- for keeping him company.

‘ _See you in the morning?_ ’

‘Of course, my friend!’

Link hopped down from the cart, offering Beedle’s sweet-natured pony a pat on the nose before making his way through the main streets of Castle Town.

+++

There wasn't much activity at this time of night -- save from within the pubs and taverns, of course. Link strolled with purpose, keenly aware of the fact that he was on the verge of being late. Hyrule Castle, his destination, loomed high above the town in all its might and splendour. The gate was manned by two guards who waved him through with only the barest glance at his identification papers. From there, he detoured off of the main road onto a lesser-used track.

Said track lead towards the belly of the Castle, which had once served as a prison until a new, safer facility was built on a nearby island. All of that now-empty space, conveniently tucked away out of public sight, had been given a new purpose.

‘LINK! There you are!’

He’d barely gotten past the second security check (a little more thorough than the one performed at the gate) when a familiar voice called to him from inside. Within seconds a firm hand had clamped down on his elbow and was guiding him mercilessly through the criss-cross maze of corridors. The look of exasperation on Link’s face was mostly playful. Mostly.

‘I’ve been waiting for you forever! What took you so long? If we’re late for the meeting, I swear…’

Her words washed over him like waves breaking upon sand: his usual response to Zelda’s little tirades. The mention of a “meeting”, however, gave him pause for thought and he tapped at her shoulder so that he could ask her about it when her head turned: ‘ _What meeting_?’

‘ _The_ meeting!’ Zelda seemed equal parts exasperated and vibrating with excitement. ‘The expedition team are due back today. I’ve been waiting all morning!’

Of course she had. Link, on the other hand, had forgotten entirely.

They skidded around the corner into one of the disused guards rooms, which had been transformed into a central hub of sorts. There was a buzz of people and voices. Link recognised several high-ranking officials woven in amongst the whitecoats, one hand automatically lifting in a salute that was met with distracted nods of acknowledgement. He began tapping Zelda’s shoulder again. With some urgency.

‘ _I’m not sure I’m supposed to be here._ ’

‘It’s fine -- you’re with me.’ She dismissed his protests with a wave and dragged him over into a less crowded corner of the room. To his relief, nobody seemed to pay the two of them any attention; clearly they had more important things on their mind than a low-ranking guard and an apprentice researcher. ‘Oh, _oh_! Link, look! We must be just on time -- that’s Urbosa of the Gerudo.’ Zelda's voice dropped to a reverent whisper, all eyes on the imposingly tall woman as she entered the room. 'She’s being brought in as the lead researcher on this project.’

Dressed in a combination of Hylian and Gerudo styles that resulted in an outfit that was both practical and beautiful, Urbosa looked absolutely stunning. It was clear, however, that a deep intelligence lived behind those sharp, green eyes -- anyone who thought of her as only a pretty face would be sorely mistaken. Her painted lips were pulled into a thin smile as her gaze swept across the room.

‘As I'm sure you're all aware,’ she began, with a voice as rich and warm as spiced honey, 'today marks the arrival of something none of us have ever seen before. A new asset that will enable us to push the boundaries of our knowledge and expand outwards into territories uncharted. It goes without saying that this operation is top secret. If anyone repeats what they see or hear today or any day, their actions will be counted as treason against the Kingdom of Hyrule.’

Zelda’s grip on Link’s arm tightened momentarily, but he knew her well enough to know it wasn’t fear digging its nails into his upper arm. It was excitement.

Truth be told, he was feeling a flutter of it as well.

‘Some of you will be receiving new assignments starting from today.’ From a concealed pocket, Urbosa withdrew a roll of parchment and proceeded to pin it to the noticeboard at her side. ‘If you are on this list, congratulations. You will be working under either myself or--’ Her lip curled with obvious distaste. ‘--Our new Captain of the Guard. Those whose names are not on this list I would kindly ask to remove themselves from the room and return to your normal duties.’

Urbosa stepped to one side and there was an immediate surge of movement, people clamoring for a glimpse of their name on the parchment. Being smaller than everyone else, Link and Zelda were able to weave their way through the crowd and make it to the front, though they were separated in the process.

Staring up at the board, Link’s eyes darted back and forth across the parchment. It wasn’t a very long list. Over and over he read a selection of names that were very much not his.

‘Yes! Yes! Thank you, Ma’am! I won’t let you down!’

He glanced over his shoulder to see that Zelda had already detached herself from the throng and was chatting animatedly to Urbosa. The Gerudo’s hard smile had softened considerably. Warmth coursed through Link knowing that his friend was finally getting the recognition she deserved, but it was a bittersweet feeling.

Back to obscurity for him.

Not wanting to cause a fuss or ruin Zelda’s moment in the sun, Link did as he had been asked and stepped back outside without trying to get her -- or anyone else’s -- attention. His motions were copied by several of the whitecoats and a couple of the guardsmen, disappointment thick in the air. Many of them were muttering to themselves as they marched away to their usual locations.

A soundless sigh slipped past his lips, but Link squared his shoulders and lifted his head. What was the point in getting upset about something that he’d forgotten all about until just a few minutes ago?

Just as he was about to set off, Link caught the stamp of boots and a rumbling, rolling sound approaching from down the corridor. Positioning himself next to the door, it was easy to slip into the usual stance: staring forwards with one hand on his sword. The sight of his second ever Gerudo was nearly enough to make him break character, eyes widening with surprise. A _male_ Gerudo at that, dressed in Royal Guard finery and coming to a halt less than a foot away from Link.

But perhaps more interesting than the Gerudo was the large, wheeled box being pushed behind him by a sweating team of three. A thick black cloth had been draped over the box, but within Link could have sworn he heard…

Water.

‘Looks like Miss Urbosa started the meeting without me.’ There was no love lost in his words; not even his chuckle lightened the tone. 'You three, leave _that_ there and come with me. You, boy.’ The Gerudo turned his attention to Link, who stiffened with alarm. ‘Don't move from that spot. I fully expect you to lay down your life should _anyone_ tamper with this box. Do you understand?’

Link could only nod and offer a salute, but that seemed to satisfy the Gerudo. He entered the room, followed closely by the three Hylians, and the door was pushed mostly closed behind them. From within, he could hear another burst of conversation: most notably the voices of the two Gerudo.

His composure lasted all of a minute.

Creeping closer to the box, Link ran his fingertips along the thick, rough fabric, feeling for an edge. His breath caught when he found one, pulse humming in his throat. Time slowed to a crawl as he pulled the fabric aside, like a magician about to reveal his greatest trick, anticipation building to an almost unbearable crescendo.

His sharp hearing had been correct. The box -- tank? -- was made of glass and metal and full of water. Murky, blue-green water. Link's eyes narrowed as they tried to penetrate the gloom for any sign of something within, for surely there _had_ to be--

A flash of movement caught his eager attention -- a burst of crimson amongst the aqua. Emboldened, Link raised his free hand so that he could trace the tips of his fingers against the glass, leaving trails of condensation behind. No response. Next came his knuckles, lightly rapping against the surface to produce a muffled _knock-knock_.

A webbed palm big enough to cover his face slammed up against the other side with enough force to startle him backwards, almost pulling the cover off with him. Thick, yellowish claws scraped against the glass, creating an awful noise while leaving visible scratches behind. In stark contrast, a deep, soulful sound resonated from within the tank, bringing a shimmer of unexpected tears to Link’s eyes.

Just as he began to drop the cloth, a face appeared from behind the spread palm. It was unlike any he’d ever seen: humanoid, but not. A mix of cream and crimson scales, a mouth brimming with serrated teeth, and a pair of slitted, golden eyes. Eyes that remained fixed on his with an awareness that made his stomach drop. There was the sound again -- a rumble that Link felt down to the bone. There could be no doubting the feeling behind that look, that call.

Whatever was inside that tank did not want to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yup! Purah = Giles, Zelda = ......... Zelda, and Urbosa = Dimitri? Sort of. In essence. 
> 
> It breaks my heart to put Link & Zelda in different areas of the facility, but I _really_ wanted her to be able to live out her dreams of being a scientist at long last. Hopefully their paths will be able to cross more frequently as the story goes on ahahaha.
> 
> AND WHAT'S THIS?! A minuscule interaction between the main pairing?! Say it ain't so.
> 
> I think my plan from here is to restrict the POV shifts to Sidon, Ganon, and Link. One of the things that I was, personally, desperately missing from The Shape of Water was Charlie's/the asset's perspective........... so I want to make sure we see things through Sidon's eyes as often as possible. ♥
> 
> Thank you all again! See you next time!


	5. Elegía al Vacío

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone! ♥
> 
> I wanted to start off by linking [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A3GQ3uXFAkE) because I forgot to put it in the notes of the last chapter and aaaaaaa I wanted you all to hear it!! It's Link's repaired music box.
> 
> OH THAT'S RIGHT. The incredible snailsoup over at tumblr drew some absolutely GORGEOUS TD-themed artwork! [Here](http://snailsoup.tumblr.com/post/170560677618/some-doodles-for-the-incredibly-well-written) is the link. Please shower them with love and kisses for me. I still cry about it daily.
> 
> This is a l o n g chapter whoops. But I suppose you guys won't mind that haha!! 
> 
> As always, please enjoy.
> 
> [Warning for depictions of violence, blood, etc. in this chapter.]

Each day was a blur of misery.

After the incident in the container, everything had taken an even steeper downwards turn for the worst. In replacement of the startled, blue-eyed Hylian came that hated red-haired man, face split wide with a grin that suggested he had been waiting for just such a moment. Desperation had pushed him down into a bottom corner of the box, but it was hopeless. Surrounded entirely by water, there had been no escaping the leap of the current that surged mercilessly through his entire body. Once again, he had succumbed to a pain-filled darkness.

When he next came to, he could instantly tell that his surroundings weren’t quite so restricted. It was a cruel hope, swiftly dashed on the rocks of reality, when he realised that he had simply been transferred into a larger container. Though infinitely preferable to the box, giving him room to swim and exercise his neglected muscles, it was still about as far from freedom as one could possibly be.

The metal collar around his neck, attached to a ring on the wall by a thick chain, served as a stark reminder of that fact.

While the prolonged periods of solitude brought boredom and frustration, the moments spent with “company” were much, much worse. Hylians with their white coats and their clipboards and their devices that flickered with lights and noises. Measuring and poking and prodding and always muttering, muttering, muttering. They’d drawn his blood on multiple occasions, pulling the chain back until he was pinned against the wall and unable to do so much as turn his head. His writhing and snarling was met with neutral expressions and clinical actions. Afterwards he was given a fish as though by means of “compensation” or “reward”. Sometimes he ate it.

Mostly he tossed it back over the side of the tank.

It wasn’t the pain that infuriated him so much as the humiliation. Back home, the humans had treated him with a respect that bordered on reverence, not even touching him unless absolutely necessary. For the most part they had lived out their lives separately, paths only ever crossing in times of need. They may not have spoken a common language, but they had shared an understanding. An acceptance of their status as different kinds of people, peacefully coexisting.

Here, he had been reduced to nothing more than some exotic animal. A curiosity. Something to be kept in a cage and studied for reasons he had yet to fathom.

... In truth, not _all_ of his human visitors were bad.

Though he’d been initially inclined to distrust the tall, red-haired woman on the spot for her strong resemblance to _that man_ , she had proven herself to be his exact opposite. She never threatened nor raised her voice, speaking in a warm, calm manner that he found to be soothing even though he couldn’t comprehend the meaning behind the words. If the others did something that switched on his temper or otherwise aggravated him, she was the one who firmly directed them out of the door. Sometimes never to come back again, replaced the next day by brand new faces. In a way, she reminded him of the village leader.

Trailing behind her at all times was a little blonde shadow. Another female, a Hylian in round glasses, who seemed equal parts feisty and desperate to please. Her fast-paced, energetic chatter could hardly be described as “soothing”, but he appreciated the genuineness of her expressions and the fact she insisted on being the one to offer him a fish after every checkup. Even after he’d managed to fling one such offering directly into her face with a satisfyingly wet slap.

But despite their redeeming qualities, they were still responsible for keeping him contained in his miserable surroundings. Still the ones who helped restrain him and take samples of his blood and scales. So, just like everyone else, their approach was received with a flash of teeth and frills -- and no amount of offered fish would change that.

A metallic groaning signalled the opening of the reinforced doors that lead to his room. Ducking beneath the surface of the pool, he listened for the vibrations of a familiar step: the neat click of the red-haired female or the hurried beat of her little shadow. What he heard instead was heavy boots coming down on stone floor with the controlled pace of a predator: slow, deliberate, confident.

Lips slowly pulled back over eager teeth; he was tired of being this one's prey.

+++

The acrid stink of the cleaning products managed to work its way into the back of his nose and throat even with the cover pulled over his face. Despite his streaming eyes and nose, Link worked with a tireless diligence, scrubbing and mopping and wiping up the various messes and spills he came across at every turn. Not a pleasant task even at the best of times, it was made worse by the very nature of the work carried out in this particular facility. As well as the usual sorts of litter -- balled up wads of paper, scraps of broken machinery, abandoned coffee mugs overflowing with mould, and so on -- came a more “unique” unpleasantness.

Blood. Vomit. Corrosive chemicals. Severed monster limbs.

It was a good thing Link didn’t suffer from a delicate stomach. In fact, he took it all in his stride, tossing fragments of lizalfos horn and slimy, unidentifiable matter into the incinerator along with the more palatable waste.

Besides, the work itself wasn't as unpleasant as the stares and snickers it brought. Link's fellow guardsmen were all besides themselves with glee to see him go past in a mask and apron and elbow-length rubber gloves, pushing a wheeled bucket of soapy water.

‘Hey, Linky-boy! You missed a spot!’ That was accompanied by a very unattractive retching noise as the guard fake-vomited on the floor.

Link rolled his eyes and carried on. Their catcalling and ribbing was stale and uninventive, but it succeeded in making him feel frustrated that he was unable to retort in a way that they'd understand.

Beyond flashing them the middle finger, that is.

Besides, it wasn't much different to their usual teasing. Even before his temporary demotion to cleaner, they'd had a wealth of things to pick on him for. If it wasn't his inability to speak -- a favourite topic -- it was his small stature or delicate features. When Zelda was around they got a smart-mouthed earful for their troubles, even at Link's insistence that it was fine. Just banter between boys with swords.

It was a miracle he hadn’t been fired that night.

After being caught red-handed with the cloth gripped in his fist, Link had been certain that was the end for him. Guards and whitecoats had poured out of the room and straight into action, one snatching the fabric out of his hand and roughly shoving him to one side. Pressed up against the wall, Link had missed most of the subsequent action.

He hadn't, however, missed that cry of pain. Even now, he could hear the echoes of it bouncing around in his memories.

Were it not for Zelda -- faithful even when terrified of the consequences -- immediately pleading his case before the two Gerudo, cleaning and catcalls would have been the least of his worries.

‘Any of us would have done it! You just wanted to see, right Link? You were just curious, like all of us.’

He'd furiously nodded his assent, painfully aware of Urbosa’s cool gaze.

'Well, Captain, it would seem that this falls under your jurisdiction. He's one of _yours_ , after all.’

‘It would seem so.’ He'd been twirling the still-crackling rod in his hand the entire time. 'What's the matter, boy? Cukko got your tongue? Or do you always leave it to young ladies to defend you?’

Link had automatically jumped to correct the assumption. All eyes were on him as his hands flowed from one motion to the next.

‘“I'm mute. I can't speak out loud,”,’ Zelda translated, half a beat later. '“So I couldn't tell anyone about what I saw, even if I wanted to”.’

‘That's terribly convenient.’

Urbosa rolled her eyes, one hand on her hip.

‘If you're going to insist on dragging this out, Ganon, I'm going to take my leave. In all honesty, _your_ actions probably caused greater harm than the boy’s. Punish him or fire him and be done with it. Zelda?’

Clearly torn between duty and loyalty, the young woman had hesitated, throwing Link a desperate look. In return, he'd offered her a brave smile and a reassurance: ‘ _I'll be okay. Don't disappoint your new boss._ ’

‘You Hylians are a dramatic lot, aren't you?’ Ganon snorted. ‘Don't worry your pretty little heads -- I'm not a _monster_. It would be a terrible shame to lose such a _convenient_ worker over such a minor… mistake.’

Link emptied the dirty water down the drain, nose crinkling with displeasure at the rotten smell. Captain Ganon was certainly intimidating, but Link had been more than grateful for the second chance. So, he would embrace the opportunity to redeem himself -- foul smells and all.

At the very least, his current duties had given him a strange kind of freedom that Link hadn't been expecting. As a guardsman, he'd been required to stick to precise routes, patrolling specific areas of the facility day-in and day-out. As a cleaner, he had almost universal access to every nook and cranny of the many rooms and corridors.

Like the one he was wandering down at that very moment.

+++

Nothing could be more gratifying than the outright hatred contained within that monster’s inky gaze. Even though everything below the eyes was still submerged, Ganon caught a glimpse of bared teeth lurking just beneath the surface. Its tail-like appendage swayed back and forth like that of an agitated cat.

‘Spending a week with the brainy bunch has given you some of your _spark_ back, I see.’ It might not have been able to understand his words, but it sure bristled all the same. ‘Clearly, they’re going too soft on you.’

The metal door clicked heavily back into place behind him, two guards left outside as a matter of formality. Inside, it was just himself and the creature.

Having spent his week whipping the shoddy Hylian guards into something halfway resembling an actual security detail, this was Ganon’s first visit to his “old friend’s” new accommodations. Hands clasped at the small of his back, he made a point of looking over the modified Sheikah technology that lined the walls of the room like he had all the time in the world. Leafing through notes and anatomical drawings, it didn’t take long for his keen eyes to pick out the phrase “Test results: inconclusive” multiple times over. A slow smile dawned across his features.

‘Looks like they’re not making much progress,’ he carried on conversationally, glancing over his shoulder at the monster. It hadn’t taken its eyes off of him the entire time. ‘A real shame.’

His meandering path took Ganon back towards the tank. The fins framing the creature’s face fluttered with obvious alarm, but it maintained its ground instead of ducking away beneath the water like he’d expected it to. Ganon took careful note of the amount of slack remaining in the chain that restrained it to the wall, mentally estimating how much more it could potentially give, before pausing at the edge of the tank.

‘Luckily for -- well, me -- I’ve been given the go-ahead to try out a few _alternative methods_ to try and... hurry things along a bit.’

The slow, deliberate dance of his fingers along the length of the thunderstorm rod, at his hip as ever, provoked a bit more of an exciting reaction. The monster surged forwards with a snarl of outrage, chain snapping out to its maximum extension and leaving its captive straining with the metal collar pressed up flush against its throat. Its teeth came together with a resounding _clack_.

‘Temper, temper!’

Ganon could have reached out and patted it on the arrow-shaped dome of its head. Instead, he drove the rod directly into the creature’s chest, watching the ball lightning bounce along its cream under-scales. It staggered backwards into deeper water, doubled over with obvious pain -- though it was not rendered unconscious this time. Ganon was unphased.

‘I figured out how to adjust the settings. Now we can play for a little while without you tapping out after the first hit.’

The angry-looking welt that had been inflicted at the point of contact was already healing over with a shimmery, green glow that Ganon recognised from the creature’s attempts to restore the dying chief. Within seconds, it had faded away to unmarred scales once again. The Gerudo hummed a mockingly impressed sound.

‘And there it is, the thing that’s gotten everyone’s heads in a spin. I don’t get it. Buy yourself a bottle of red potion -- does exactly the same thing without trying to bite you in the process.’

Modifying its settings with a flourish, Ganon touched the end of the thunderstorm rod to the water’s surface. As with the box tank from before, there was nowhere for the creature to run before its surroundings were electrified. Its knees buckled, sending it crashing down underwater with a splash and a rattle of the chain.

‘Funny, isn’t it? Dragging you all the way here from that bug- and bokoblin-infested hellhole was probably a colossal waste of time. Mine especially. But yours as well, I suppose.’

Ganon leaned over the edge of the tank, weapon still extended. The water was still.

+++

Static sparked and crackled in his ears, but he could still hear the rumbling echoes of that man’s voice above all else. Hunkered down down at the bottom of the pool, body singing with pain, he knew he was probably only moments away from watching the tip of that wretched weapon descend upon him once again. His gaze became entirely focused on the hand gripping its hilt, furiously calculating if it was within his reach.

 _His_ week had been spent swimming from corner to corner of his new “home”, testing his limits and boundaries.

Feet flat on the floor, knees tucked, his body became a coiled spring ready to unfurl. Like the tick of a metronome, the rod was being waved side to side, continually changing the position of his target. He tracked it like he would a fish: with unwavering concentration.

A miniscule change in direction was all the advanced warning he needed. Pushing himself forwards and up in a perfectly-timed motion, he broke the surface of the water again barely half a second later, mouth wide open. The moment he tasted the foul earth-and-salt flavour of human skin, he bit down without hesitation. Teeth sheared through flesh and bone and his mouth was immediately flooded with hot blood. Sweet satisfaction coursed through every inch of his body at the bellow of agony that erupted from his tormentor’s mouth.

The offensive matter was spat out over the side of the tank, two distinct chunks of meat hitting the floor within seconds of one another. Were it not for the chain yanking him backwards, he would have gone in for a second attempt, blood staining his teeth and the white scales around his mouth and chin. His breath came out in a slow, ragged hiss, upper body hunched over at the waist in a predatory stance.

Those piercing eyes had lost a little of their sharpness, lips pulled into a thin, tight line. The stumps where his ring and little fingers had once sat steadily pumped dark blood down the length of his forearm, dripping from his elbow into the water. His remaining three fingers remained wrapped loosely around the hilt of the sparking weapon.

He stepped backwards. Smiled.

And dropped the rod into the pool.

+++

An almighty yell ricocheted down the corridor and stopped Link dead in his tracks, mop gripped tight in his gloved hands. Further down, two guards were frantically scrambling to unlock a heavy, metal door, one tapping their pocket Slate onto the security reader.

‘Sir! Captain Ganon! Hold on, Sir!’

The moment the light faded from orange to blue, the door was shoved outwards, pushing the panicked Hylians back into the corridor. Instinct demanded that Link turn and walk back the way he came, but morbid curiosity rooted his feet firmly to the floor.

‘Sir…? You’re wounded, Sir!’

Ganon emerged from the room, roughly nudging the obviously worried men aside. His hands were clasped against his chest, one clearly supporting the other. Link could hear his laboured breathing even from where he was stood, could detect the splash of bright red blood as it splattered against the stone floor.

‘To the infirmary, gentlemen?’ Ganon’s voice was so soft it bordered on a whisper: deadly calm.

Without waiting for a reply, the Gerudo started walking towards where Link was still standing. Link stiffened, automatically standing to attention as he approached, unable to tear his gaze away from the other man’s hand. There was a lot of blood. Ganon paid him an almost cursory glance as he passed, letting out a breathy chuckle.

‘Well, if it isn’t my convenient worker. Go ahead and take a look, boy -- and don’t forget your bucket.’

He carried on towards the flight of stairs and began to ascend, trailing dark red droplets all the while. The guards, practically besides themselves with worry, chased after him and practically glued themselves to either side of his body, looking rather ridiculous in their attempts to support such a tall, powerfully built man. Link watched them for a little while, but his attention was slowly drawn back towards the door.

The open door.

His feet seemed to move of their own accord, one hand dragging the bucket along behind him. Whether they’d left the room accessible intentionally or by accident, he could not pass up such an opportunity. For who was he to deny fate?

Especially when it had guided him back to the creature again.

+++

Cool, gentle fingers caressed his brow, trailing down the length of his fin until they came to cup his cheek. Tilting his face carefully upwards, her smile did little to sweeten the sour pout that marred his youthful features. While he didn't pull away from her touch, it was clear he was actively avoiding making eye contact, gaze continually slipping off to the side. One arm was pinned behind his back, succeeding only in making its absence more noticeable instead of less.

Her laughter was the trickle of a silver stream, her voice the whisper of wind on the surface of the water.

_Show me, little one._

He flinched away, worrying at his bottom lip with his sharp baby teeth. A whine trembled in his throat.

_Show me where it hurts._

With great effort, he redirected his attention back onto her serene expression. She held out one hand, fingers and webs spread, coaxing him with nothing more than patience and that ever-present smile. With another whimper, he conceded, slowly extending his trembling fist before finally dropping it into her waiting palm. Unfurling his clenched fingers with great care, she swiftly located the source of the problem: a small metal fish hook, embedded in the delicate skin that stretched between thumb and forefinger.

_Hold still, little one. Let me help you._

Manipulating the hook smoothly and delicately -- though his gills fluttered at an increased rate all the same -- she removed it from his webbing with minimal additional damage. The moment she finished he seemed to deflate, letting out all of his breath at once. Seconds later, he was thrusting his spread hand into her face, making squeaky little sounds of insistence and urgency.

_Fix! Fix fix fix!_

He was referring to the tiny puncture wound left behind. She slowly shook her head, provoking chirrups of confusion and dismay.

 _Give it time, baby brother._ She pressed her lips to his palm. _You can't fix every single thing with magic._

The sulky pout was making its swift return, but she didn't give it the chance to settle on his face. With the hook safely buried into the bark of a nearby tree, she scooped his wriggling form up into her arms and carried him down into the water. His cries of protest soon transformed into squeals of delight, tail wagging from side-to-side with giddy anticipation.

Water never failed to make him feel safe, to make him feel happy, to make him feel…

... pain. With every stoppered breath, he invited more of it inside him: a coursing static that left every nerve burning. The image of her gentle face was rapidly fading from his mind, replaced by each surge of fresh agony. Through blurry eyes he could see it floating on the surface, pulsing yellow each time it unleashed another burst of current into the water. Within reach but utterly untouchable.

He was drifting, both physically and mentally, his exhausted body working overtime to repair the damage, but with it being so constant...

_You can't fix every single thing with magic._

And then, it stopped.

Eyes flashed open, sheer disbelief lending him the strength required to push his head above the surface and witness this apparent miracle.

The Hylian. The one who had tapped on the glass.

Gripped in his gloved fists was the rod, soft features twisted into open disgust as he turned the weapon over in his hands. Slowly, his gaze lifted, casting across the length of the pool until their eyes met. Now that he wasn't trapped in a box and blinded by rage, he could really take in how startlingly blue they were. Like twin lakes illuminated by the light of dawn.

Without warning, the Hylian turned and threw the rod down _hard_ on the ground. It shattered with a burst of sparks that fizzled away harmlessly into the air, though the pair of them instinctively flinched away from the noise. 

A moment passed before their eyes met once again. That hard expression had softened into something warm and bright, a grin poking at the corners of the Hylian’s lips. It contained nothing of the malice he'd come to expect from such a gesture. In fact, for the briefest instant it reminded him of…

Wordlessly, the Hylian pulled a fabric mask up to cover the lower half of his face and got to work. He swam just close enough that he could watch, mindful of how weak and unsteady his still-healing body was.

The weapon shards were all swept up and disposed of into a nearby container. The floor was mopped clean of the many drips and splashes of blood. At one point, the Hylian knelt down and retrieved something from the floor, wrapping it up with a square of cloth. It wasn't hard to guess what that “something” might be; his mouth was still coated with the taste of them.

Approaching footsteps had them both on the alert, instinct directing him back into the deeper part of the pool. When the door was pushed open, he was almost relieved to see it was the little blond female hurrying her way in rather than anyone else.

She seemed frantic, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose several times as she glanced left and right across the room. Her greeting for her fellow Hylian contained obvious familiarity -- going so far as to grip his shoulders and give him a shake. As always, she spoke rapidly and with elaborate gesticulation, pulling him along towards the door all the while.

A last, lingering look over his shoulder was all the Hylian had time for before he was physically manhandled right out of the room. The door banged shut behind them.

In the abrupt silence, the sound of the rod smashing played over and over again in his mind.

For the first time in a long time, he felt able to smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO YEAH A LOT HAPPENED HAHA.
> 
> This chapter got a little preemptive [fanart](http://obernatos.tumblr.com/post/170640895162/spoiler-teaser-for-my-partners-botw-au-fan-fic) (warning for depictions of violence/light gore!) too, from my darling wife this time! She's essentially my proof-reader so she gets to see things in advance!
> 
> Writing the little interaction between Link and Sidon made me so happy. My notes for the next chapter include the phrase "Dating: Start!" so YEP. You all know what that means! (Eggs. EGGS!)
> 
> Just as a quick aside! The increasing length of these chapters mean it's taking me a bit longer to write each one and I've sort of almost caught up with myself -- Chapter 6 is only half completed. I really don't want you guys to be waiting any longer than a week between each update, but please be patient with me if I run over that goal a little. 
> 
> Thank you all so much, I'll see you next time. ♥


	6. Serenata del Agua

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AT LAST. AT!! LAST!!
> 
> Thank you all for your patience! I'm so glad to finally be releasing the next chapter! 
> 
> [Here](http://snailsoup.tumblr.com/post/170819582123/some-small-doodles-for-tener-duende-again) is some more art from the glorious and generous Yuan. I hate (love) how attractive they make Ganon look. Damnit. The Royal Guard uniform suits him a lot more than I could have imagined. AND THAT PRECIOUS LINK. SO GOOD. I'm truly blessed. Thank you Yuan.
> 
> Anyway yeah I don't wanna bore you guys with too much chit-chat seeing as this has been released waaaaay past my week "deadline". So I'll just let you all enjoy it!

‘I know I might _look_ like I was born yesterday, but you can't fool me that easy.’ Purah tittered, fiddling away with the tech on her lap and shaking her head.

‘ _I know what I saw_ ,’ Link signed insistently, drawing her attention with the largeness of his gestures. ‘ _It's a Zora. It has to be._ ’

‘It's the cleaning chemicals,’ she replied, ‘breathing them in all day isn't good for you, y'know. Especially if you're starting to see things.’

Link sat down heavily on the arm of the sofa, toppling a tower of textbooks in the process. Neither of them paid it much mind.

‘Besides, we -- well, you Hylians -- wiped out all the river Zora,’ Purah muttered, kicking her dangling legs as she went back to tightening screws, 'coupla hundred years ago. Nasty little critters.’

‘ _Not a river Zora,_ ’ he corrected almost absently, though her head snapped up as she processed the seemingly simple sentence. Link was casting his mind back to the illustrated history books he'd poured over as a child. With their wide mouths and reptilian features, they didn't resemble the creature he'd seen at all. ‘ _A sea Zora._ ’

Finally, he'd captured her full attention. Haphazardly shoving her project to the side, Purah jumped up onto her feet with her hands on her hips, screwdriver still clasped in one fist.

‘Describe it.’

There was nothing unusual about the intensity behind her demand. Much like Zelda, if something sparked her interest she pursued the answers with the determination of a hound on the hunt. It had been a while since Link had been put under the pressure of such scrutiny, however.

‘ _Big. _’ It was the first word that came to mind, eliciting a snort of laughter from Purah. He thought a bit harder, hands gradually moving from sign to sign with increasing confidence and fluidity. ‘ _Bright -- bright colours. Red, yellow, blue. Fins frame the face, a long tail curves from the back of the head. Sharp teeth and claws._ ’ These two details were pantomimed, hands curled and teeth bared, succeeding in making the pair of them break out in momentary giggles. ‘ _Lots of scars all over the body. Both old and new._ ’ His signing slowed again, gaze becoming somewhat distant. ‘ _Gills, three on each side, right here._ ’ He held out three fingers on each hand, positioning them just above the rib cage on both sides of his body. Purah would know that he was thinking about the scarring that mirrored his description of the gills: the parallel cuts carved along the lines of his ribs. ‘ _Golden eyes. Intelligent. Aware. Beautiful._ ’__

____

As his fingers fluttered across his face to complete the final sign, Link became painfully aware of Purah’s magnified stare burning holes into his skin. Blinking out of his unexpected reverie, he instinctively curled into himself a bit.

____

‘ _What’s that look for?_ ’

____

Purah cleared her throat, before jabbing the screwdriver towards him in an accusatory manner. With a big grin on her face.

____

‘Well, I don’t know if what you saw was a Zora or not, but whatever it is... I’d say you’ve got a _bit_ of a crush on it.’

____

+++

____

They itched. Beneath the bandages, skin and metal pulled against one-another, creating sensation where there should have been none. The marvels of Sheikah technology.

____

Better than no fingers at all, he supposed.

____

‘Ah, sir?’ There was a light tapping on the heavy wooden door. 'Link and Zelda are here, as requested.’

____

Ganon glanced up from the file notes he had been skimming over to the assistant hovering by the doorway to his “office”. Yet another converted jail cell decked out with too-small fittings and furnishings. The marvels of Hylian craftsmanship.

____

‘Send them in.’

____

The young researcher and guard-turned-cleaner were promptly ushered inside. Ganon indicated the two chairs positioned on the opposite side of his desk with a wave of the hand. His finger joints sang with pain. He ignored them.

____

‘Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedules to join me today.’

____

The way Zelda was sitting, straight-backed and perched on the edge of the chair like it might bite her, reminded him of a child. A child convinced they were about to get a scolding. By contrast, Link appeared fairly relaxed, though his eyes continually darted towards Ganon's bandaged hand.

____

‘Not a problem, Captain Ganon!’ Her peppiness was obviously forced, as was her tight smile. The fact that she didn't want to in his office couldn't be more clear -- Urbosa had already sunk her painted claws into this one. 'May I ask the reason you called for us?’

____

‘Well, mostly I wanted to speak to Link here,’ Ganon said, resting both hands on the desk. His new fingertips tapped solidly on the wooden surface. ‘So, I needed a translator.’

____

That seemed to pique the boy’s attention. At the very least, he was sitting up straighter, eyes widening perceptibly. Ganon laughed.

____

‘Relax! I’m not going to _bite_ you -- I actually wanted to _thank_ you for so valiantly retrieving my fingers. Re-attaching them was apparently not an option, but no matter. I’m nothing if not adaptable.’

____

His fingers drummed across the tabletop in succession. The difference in the sounds flesh and metal made were striking; Zelda visibly flinched. Link lifted his own hands and began to form them into the smooth, flowing shapes that constituted his speech -- something Ganon found surprisingly fascinating. After a moment’s hesitation, Zelda began to translate.

____

‘“It was the least I could do. I couldn’t just leave them there, even if nothing could be done”.’

____

‘So modest. And I'm to understand that my thunderstorm rod was broken by the monster?’

____

‘“That's right. It must have managed to knock it out of the tank somehow. It shattered when it hit the floor”.’

____

‘A pity -- they're frustratingly hard to get ahold of. And so delicate.’ A slow smile. ‘Luckily, we have two more in reserve.’

____

Link's true feelings were briefly exposed in the flicker of emotion that darted across his features. Surprise. Dismay. They’d quickly settled back into careful impassiveness, but Ganon wouldn't reached the position of Captain without becoming closely acquainted with the art of perception. It was time to corral this straying lamb.

____

‘So, Link, how did you find your week of cleaning duties?’ he asked, leaning over the desk slightly.

____

‘“Can hardly complain”,’ came the answer. Zelda’s neutral tone poorly represented the hint of humour in Link’s half-grin and casual shrug. Ganon found himself focusing almost entirely on the latter’s face for accuracy’s sake. ‘“Better than the alternative”.’

____

‘Hm.’ Ganon got to his feet, picking up one of the files from the desk and glancing over it. The two Hylians were forced to crane their necks back to keep him in view. ‘I took the liberty of glancing over your files. Such humble origins for someone with such an auspicious name, Miss Zelda.’

____

‘My father named me,’ came her quiet reply, ‘he wanted me to have the grace and wisdom of the Princesses from the old stories.’

____

‘Ah, of course. I wonder... Did he happen to mention the story where the Princess failed to activate her powers, subsequently dooming the Kingdom to over a hundred years of chaos and destruction?’

____

There was a sharp intake of breath.

____

‘We usually left out that particular story, sir.’

____

Ganon glanced over the top of the file to see that Zelda had lowered her head. To conceal her upset, perhaps? Or were those clenched fists a symbol of contained anger? Either way, it would appear that she had not yet learnt the art of Urbosa’s desert viper tongue.

____

‘And you, Link. Orphaned, correct?’

____

After a moment's hesitation, the boy nodded and made a gesture that required no translation: arms rocking an imaginary child.

____

‘As a baby, yes.’ Ganon skimmed over the file, index finger skimming over the handwritten text. 'Found on the banks of River Hylia, with “terrible wounds across the chest, as though sliced by lizalfos claws”. Hm. Fascinating. I've never known a lizalfos to abandon such easy prey.’ Unlike Zelda, Link’s gaze remained fixed: the mark of a soldier. ‘Up until your little incident with the tank your track record is sound. “Hardworking”. “Dedicated”. A few marks off for tardiness, but that can always be rectified.’ He tossed the files back down again, arms folding over his chest. 'Seems a waste to let you wallow away as a cleaner. Consider yourself reinstated.’

____

The clouds of confusion gave way to sunny surprise; Link stood and offered a quick salute. At his side, Zelda’s hands tightened perceptibly.

____

‘“Thank you”,’ she said on Link's behalf, as he touched his fingers to his lips.

____

‘Seeing as you appear unable to keep away from the monster, I have decided to cut out the middleman. You have been assigned to the project as a patrol guard and backup. Your identity Slate will be updated to allow access to the relevant locations. Officially, your role is to “protect the monster from outside interference”, but you can can tell which department wrote _that_ job description.’ 

____

It was Zelda’s turn to stand. Her already thin smile from the beginning of the meeting now resembled a taut bow string, words perched like strung arrows on her tongue.

____

‘Thank you, Captain Ganon. I’m sure Link really appreciates the second chance. If that is everything, may I return to my work?’

____

‘By all means.’ Ganon gestured at the door. The white bandages around his fingers were beginning to blossom red. ‘Return to your research. Perhaps today is the day you finally get somewhere with it.’

____

Zelda bowed curtly and made to leave, pausing only to glance back over her shoulder at Link, who in turn glanced over at Ganon. A child asking for permission.

____

‘Well, there isn’t much use in you remaining here without your mouthpiece, boy.’ Ganon cocked an eyebrow. ‘You may go. I expect to see you out of that apron and back in your proper uniform when we next meet again.’

____

Link made the _thank you_ gesture once more before hurrying off after the already departing Zelda. The door swung shut behind them and the office was quiet.

____

Ganon released a long sigh that seemed to diminish even his powerful form. He sank back down into the too-small chair, feeling it creak and groan beneath him. The bleeding hand was brought in front of his face for closer inspection. They’d warned him that this might happen; the fusion of flesh and tech was still a developing science.

____

The top desk drawer was tugged open to reveal a pouch lined with several vials, each containing a bright red liquid. Slipping one free from its holder, he removed the cork stopper with his teeth and spat it unceremoniously across the room. The contents smelt faintly of spice.

____

Red potion.

____

_No more than one vial a day_ , they’d said. It might not be able to regrow body parts, but its restorative properties were well renowned. As was its addictiveness.

____

Ganon tipped the contents of the vial into his mouth. And then chased it down with a second.

____

He’d be damned if he was going to let his body reject those fingers.

____

+++

____

‘Don’t trust that man.’

____

The moment they’d turned the corner, Zelda had him practically pinned against the wall. He couldn’t recall ever seeing such urgency in her eyes before.

____

‘I don’t know what it is he wants with you, but it can’t be good. The things Miss Urbosa has told me… and the way he treats the creature… I know he gave you your job back, but--’

____

Link managed to wriggle his hands free from being trapped against his sides, signing in the tight space between their bodies.

____

‘ _He’s not going to stop me from doing my job._ ’

____

Zelda’s brow furrowed as she waited for Link to elaborate, backing up once she realised that he might be having a little difficulty communicating with his elbows pinned to his ribs.

____

‘ _You heard what he said_.’ An almost mischievous grin. ‘ _I’m to protect the monster._ ’ 

____

+++

____

Nobody had dared touch him since the incident with the red-haired man.

____

The white-coated Hylians were still an everyday presence, muttering and scribbling away in their notebooks. But they had not attempted to take his blood or samples of his scales or attach any kind of device to him for several visits now. While this brought no small relief, the lack of direct, daily stimulation created its own problems: restlessness.

____

It was nighttime. Or at least he assumed it was, judging by his current lack of company. The lights were dimmed and the machines hummed quietly in the background, creating a surprisingly peaceful atmosphere that was almost _too_ perfectly suited for deep contemplation.

____

Lingering at the bottom of the pool, his thoughts drifted -- as always -- to the hopelessness of his situation. Even if he were to somehow remove the collar from around his neck, get out of the tank, and escape the room without anyone realising… What then? This place was as alien to him as the Hylian language; a maze twisting and turning in confusing and incomprehensible ways. Not to mention his inability to survive out of the water for extended periods of time.

____

The very nature of his own biology was a chain stronger even than the one physically restraining him to the wall.

____

His eyes flashed open at the sound of the opening door, automatically on red alert. The last time he'd had an “after hours visitor”, it had ended in pain and a mouthful of severed fingers.

____

Kicking his powerful feet, he began to circle the perimeter of the tank, hopefully letting his _guest_ know that he was not in the mood for interaction.

____

Quiet footsteps spoke of caution and hesitation, gradually coming closer and to the pool. He abruptly changed direction, knowing that the metal chain would rattle noisily in response -- something that had startled the Hylians into backing off on several occasions. The footsteps stopped. The room was still.

____

_Tap tap tap._

____

It was the unexpectedly gentle nature of the sound that piqued his innate curiosity, breaching the surface of the water just enough to peep in its direction. His frills flared in not wholly unwelcome surprise.

____

The Hylian boy. He was back.

____

Perched on the edge of the pool, he glanced backwards over his shoulder to look across the water. In one hand he held a brown, speckled, spherical object, which he was tapping against the stone ledge. The moment they made eye contact, he smiled, holding the object aloft and giving it a little shake.

____

An egg.

____

He remained exactly where he was, eyes trained on the Hylian. Seemingly satisfied by this, he began to deftly manipulate the egg with his hands, pressing a thumbnail into a crack that ran along its surface. Bit by bit the shell was peeled away, pieces piled neatly by the boy’s side, to reveal its solid white insides. Once finished, he stretched his arm out across the pool.

____

An offering.

____

Catching the scent of the food, he instinctively began to salivate. It had been a while since he’d last eaten anything -- stubbornness and boredom had driven him into rejecting his daily fish as of late.

____

Almost without thinking, he began to approach, cautiously swimming towards that outstretched hand. The Hylian kept on smiling that gentle smile of his and bobbed the egg up and down in an encouraging motion.

____

There was something hauntingly familiar about this.

____

He paused a few feet away and the Hylian’s expression faltered. When shaking the egg again failed to provoke a response, he instead brought it to his lips and took a small bite, revealing its golden center. His teeth left a ring of indents behind. The exaggerated swallow was clearly intended to reassure him that the food was safe.

____

Before he could stop himself, his lips slid back to expose rows of sharp teeth. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d been enticed -- _baited_ \-- with the promise of food, of comfort. Wasn’t this exactly the way he had been lulled into a false sense of security right before watching a knife slash his friend’s throat? Was the presence of this seemingly kind and considerate Hylian just another ploy to gain and then shatter his trust?

____

Red clouded his vision. With his feet flat upon the floor of the shallow end of the pool, he rose -- slowly -- to his full height. Frills bristled, teeth bared, pupils narrowed to vertical slits. A looming shadow cast over agasp features; he towered high above the seated human. Not that he remained seated for much longer, as he hopped down from the ledge and whirled around to face him head on. He witnessed the Hylian’s sweeping gaze as it travelled up the length of his torso to his face.

____

That wasn’t fear in his eyes.

____

Incredibly, the egg was proffered once more, clutched gently within reaching fingers. He snarled and the hand retreated, the other lifting as a flat, neutral palm: _peace_. The egg was placed down on the ledge with utmost care next to the pile of shell shards, followed by the Hylian taking a deliberate step backwards. He was on the verge of snapping again when the boy did something remarkable.

____

The middle and index fingers of both hands were extended, the rest curled neatly away towards the palm, and then brought together over the egg. Not once dropping eye contact, the boy made a gesture once -- twice. Joined fingers tapping together and then snapping downwards. Together, and then down.

____

He blinked, pupils expanding back into a less threatening diameter, utterly fascinated. Almost as though in a daze, he lifted his own hands and curled his webbed fingers to mimic the motion. Together, and then down.

____

It was almost worth it for the look of sheer delight on his face alone. The boy was nodding rapidly, repeating the motion one more time -- his enthusiasm was infectious. 

____

‘ _Egg,_ ’ said the Hylian.

____

‘ _Egg,_ ’ he replied.

____

They had spoken to each other.

____

All of the pent-up rage drained out of him like water from a broken dam, frills settling back down against his body as though deflating. Still wary, he reached out and grabbed the egg, retreating into the water before the Hylian could react.

____

Such a small thing couldn't hope to satisfy his hunger, but it had been so _long_ since he'd eaten anything apart from strange-tasting fish that even one unique morsel was emotionally fulfilling. It was consumed in a single bite.

____

When he resurfaced, the Hylian was already busily peeling a second egg. A slap of the tail on the water’s surface got his attention.

____

‘ _Egg,_ ’ he said, transitioning from making the sign to holding out his hand. The Hylian complied almost without hesitation, leaning over the ledge with his arm outstretched once more.

____

It would have been so very easy to pull him under. The boy was bent over at the waist, top heavy and clearly overbalanced -- one hard tug around the wrist would see him crashing face first into the pool. But he did no such thing. Instead, he remained perfectly still, allowing the half-peeled egg to drop down into his waiting palm.

____

He didn’t bother to finish the job, teeth crunching through the remaining shell with ease and swallowing it all down along with the whites and yolk. It was no different to consuming whole fish, though he had to admit the convenience of a properly peeled egg had its appeal. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so impatient. He finished eating, fragments of shell fluttering down into the water, and glanced up.

____

The Hylian was smiling at him again.

____

It was almost too much. The twin thrills of communication and kindness wrapped up in a smiling, blond-haired, blue-eyed package less than half his height. Even the tall woman and her companion used compassion as currency for complacency. They weren’t cruel to him, but they still had their expectations. He felt none of that around this one -- no demands beyond the sharing of company and a morsel of food.

____

The yearning to place his trust in this boy was strong.

____

Strong enough to frighten him.

____

... Too strong to deny.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene where the Asset looms over Elisa in the pool is honest-to-goodness one of my FAVOURITE visuals from the entire film. I've been dying to write it since I first started this fic, so I REALLY hope I managed to do it justice.
> 
> AAAA FINALLY THEY ARE COMMUNICATING. EGG HAS SPOKEN. EGG.
> 
> My partner and I are going on a short cruise to Tasmania on the 1st of March and won't be returning until the 6th. I won't be taking my laptop with me, so I'm afraid there might be another longish delay before the release of the next chapter. I can promise more dates and actual Sidlink interactions though, if that helps? 
> 
> Thank you all so, so much for your comments and kudos. Reading them really does make my day and goes a LONG way to help encourage me to keep on going. This is by far the longest thing I've written in a long time and I'm determined to see it through to the end.
> 
> See you all next time. ♥


	7. Canción de Curación

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! HELLO! This took about a million years, I know, but finally!! New chapter!!
> 
> I wanna give a li'l life update but I'll save it for the end of chapter notes... I'm sure you're all very ready to get reading ahahaha.
> 
> Enjoy~! ♥

Thanks to the 24/7 nature of the facility, the dining hall was thrumming with activity even in the small hours of the morning. Everyone, from the whitecoats to the guards to the cleaning staff, made use of the same room to eat and have a few moments away from their work.

Much like a banquet hall, only much less opulent, there were long wooden tables lined with mismatched benches and stools. On them were platters of rough bread, cold meats and cheeses, and fruit: for those who did not bring their own fare.

‘Hey, no packed lunch today?’ Zelda asked as Link flopped down onto a seat beside her, wielding a towering plate of food.

He looked sheepish.

‘ _I forgot to bring it._ ’

Zelda raised a cynical eyebrow, clearly having a hard time believing that Link would forget something as precious to him as _food_. Still, she shrugged and went back to absentmindedly coring and slicing an apple while pouring over a notebook filled edge-to-edge with spidery handwriting.

Mouth full of cured sausage, Link leaned in closer with a total lack of subtlety. Zelda sighed.

‘Don't you know it's rude to read over someone's shoulder?’

‘ _Not reading. Deciphering._ ’ Link's grin was bright and playful. ‘ _Your handwriting is terrible._ ’

She huffed and batted at his arm with the now-closed notebook, making a point of ignoring the full-body shakes that meant Link was laughing.

‘ _Why not use your Slate to take notes?_ ’ he asked, tapping the device that hung from the belt around her waist. It was Zelda's turn to look sheepish.

‘I'm worried about what would happen if someone outside of the team could access the database. These are my own, private studies.’

‘ _We're on the same team now,_ ,’ he reminded her with an eager dance of the fingers. ‘ _You don't have to keep secrets from me anymore. _’__

____

‘Strictly speaking, we are very much _not_ “on the same team”,’ she reminded him in return, gesturing at the clusters of guards and whitecoats positioned at various points around the tables. There was no intermingling of the two groups. Friendships across the different departments weren't exactly unheard of, but Link and Zelda were certainly the only mismatched pair present right then. ‘If Miss Urbosa thought I'd been giving out classified information or compromising the project, she'd string me up by the ears on the castle battlements…’

____

Link rolled his eyes and bit off a huge chunk of bread and cheese. One of the advantages of sign was being able to talk with your mouth full.

____

‘ _Who am I going to tell? Nobody else here can hold a conversation with me past the basics._ ’

____

Zelda tucked a stray lock of hair behind a long ear and nibbled on a slice of apple with an air of quiet contemplation. Finally, with a long-suffering sigh that was mostly for show, she flipped the notebook open to the first page and offered it to Link.

____

‘Have a look, then. If you can “decipher” my handwriting, that is.’

____

They shared a conspiratorial grin. Link made sure to wipe the grease off his fingers on a napkin before he dared touch the book.

____

Flicking through the pages, he was particularly enamoured with Zelda's sketches of the creature. Every feature was meticulously rendered and labelled with scientific care, additional notes scribbled in the margins around each drawing. They were beautiful -- if a little clinical.

____

‘ _Why is he here?_ ’ Link asked, and then went back to tracing his fingertip over a drawing of the creature with his teeth bared in a familiar gesture of rage. It didn't make his heart pound in the same way being face-to-face with those impressive teeth did, but it was a thrilling reminder nonetheless.

____

‘There's lots of reasons.’ Zelda kept her voice low, interspersing taking with the gradual consumption of her apple slices. ‘Most importantly being that the creature is capable of healing itself -- and other people. From what we've seen and heard it's even more effective than red potions or little fairy magic. But we can't figure out how it's done…’ She looked troubled. ‘Then there's its ability to breathe on the land and in the water. Both salt and freshwater, too. If we could harness such a power, it would open up so many more areas of Hyrule for exploration. The anatomy is unlike anything we've ever been able to study before…’

____

Link nodded as Zelda gave her explanations, slowly thumbing his way through the book. He turned the page and one word immediately leapt out at him, despite being buried in an avalanche of barely-legible writing.

____

‘ _Z-o-r-a,_ ’ he said, spelling out each letter of the uncommon word for Zelda's benefit. ‘ _You think he's a Zora, too?_ ’

____

Judging by Zelda's startled reaction, this wasn't a topic she expected to come up. The moment she worked out what Link was trying to say, she visibly flinched, glasses bouncing on her face. After carefully re-adjusting them, she reached for and retrieved the notebook from Link, stowing it back away in her coat pocket.

____

‘It's just a theory,’ she admitted, 'and not a very solid one, either. True Zora -- sea Zora -- have been gone for such a long time that we don't have any real records of them. Nothing apart from anecdotal accounts and the occasional drawing. While we know exactly what happened to the river Zora, we have no idea why the sea Zora disappeared. So why would just _one have been living in a Faron lake all this time? The creature isn't much more than a hundred years old, by our estimations. It doesn't add up. But…’_

____

‘ _But…?_ ’ Link prompted, stretching out the sign for emphasis.

____

‘But… Well, you've seen it. What _else_ could it be?’ Link grinned his agreement, but Zelda still seemed uncertain -- her gaze and voice both distant. ‘Sea Zora were supposedly capable of communicating with other races… If that were true, it would make things a whole lot easier…’

____

Excitement tingled in the very tips of Link's fingers, longing to form the words that would reveal how he'd “communicated” -- if the exchange of a single sign could even be called that -- with the creature. Caution warned him to keep that particular bit of information to himself, however. He knew it was hypocritical of him, considering Zelda had simply handed over her private research and theories to him, but he didn't want to raise her hopes prematurely.

____

‘ _I've never seen you give up so easily._ ’ He teased in the way only close friends could. ‘ _Wanna go tell Miss Urbosa she made a mistake in adding you to her team? You could try out cleaning duty instead._ ’

____

Puffing out her cheeks in mock rage, Zelda lightly slapped her hand on the same spot she'd hit with the notebook. They were both laughing.

____

‘Nobody said anything about “giving up”,’ she said, tilting her nose skywards. ‘Though if you're late in getting back to your post -- _again_ \-- someone _is_ going to have to clean your remains off the the property...’

____

Link was already getting to his feet, shovelling the last of his food into his mouth; no way was he going to waste his second chance.

____

Zelda's voice came calling after him -- 'Stay out of trouble!’ -- to which he could only offer a thumbs up over the shoulder. 

____

It was a nice sentiment, but probably a bit too late.

____

+++

____

He knew he was in trouble the day he started _looking forward_ to the door opening. The mere chance that the Hylian could make his after-hours appearance helped make the daily routine that much more bearable. He even felt less inclined to bite and thrash when physical contact was gradually re-introduced, having realised that the penalty for “misbehaviour” might well be the implementation of even greater restrictions. The collar was bad enough; he would hate to be placed back in that tiny container again.

____

At the very least, his current living situation permitted the freedom of swimming and interaction -- on his own terms.

____

‘ _Egg?_ ’ he asked, eyeing the boy up and down as he slowly approached the edge of the pool. 

____

‘ _Egg,_ ’ the Hylian confirmed, producing one from his pocket with a flourish and a smile.

____

This greeting, performed the same way every time, had become something of a ritual between the two of them. Afterwards, the Hylian would perch on his usual spot on the ledge and they would eat together in companionable silence. He would crunch up his eggs whole while the boy preferred to remove the shells first, which he would then usually also consume.

____

Their repertoire of shared language expanded with every visit, eventually allowing them to hold basic conversation. He found the motions of the Hylian’s hands fascinating, each tiny quirk of the fingers, palms, and wrists communicating so much more to him than the blur of audible, human speech ever had. The limits placed on him by his own physiology, by vocal cords unable to produce sounds other than growls or hissing, were all lifted away by the revelation that he could express himself with _gesture_.

____

‘ _What have?_ ’ he asked, frills rising and falling curiously as he watched the Hylian reach into his bag and take out a small box. It smelled wooden -- a familiar and well-missed scent. The boy fiddled with something protruding from the side.

____

‘ _Listen,_ ’ he replied, setting the box down beside him.

____

The box began to emit a creaking sound that wasn't entirely pleasant to his sensitive hearing, but very quickly it transformed into something much sweeter and more melodic. His eyes widened and he swam closer, disappearing almost entirely underwater save from the upper half of his face.

____

The boy lifted his hands in a clear, deliberate motion, as he always did when he was about to teach a new sign. One hand was held flat, palm facing upwards, while the other swept back and forth over the top with an obvious sense of rhythm: ‘ _Music._ ’

____

He copied the sign underwater, too preoccupied with listening to the song to demonstrate above the surface. While the jungle had its own, living orchestra in the form of birds, monkeys, and frequent thunderstorms, it lacked the harmony of this peaceful tune. It echoed in the water, dancing and vibrating, drawn into him with every breath.

____

He decided that he liked music very much.

____

After a few, blissful minutes it faded away into silence and he rumbled with displeasure, partially surfacing again to make the new sign with great insistence:

____

‘ _Music. Music._

____

The Hylian smiled, clearly pleased, and offered the box to him. Gingerly, he accepted the delicate little item and turned it over in front of his face, studying it intently. Where did the music come from?

____

Reaching out, the Hylian tapped the side of the box, drawing his attention to a small metal key stuck in the side. The boy demonstrated a twisting motion, nodding encouragement as he carefully pinched it between two claws and gave an experimental twist. His reward was a brief burst of music that all-too-quickly fizzled out into nothing. Emboldened, he twisted the key several more times until the Hylian lifted a palm to request he stop.

____

The music started again, box vibrating against his palms this time. He sighed with contentment.

____

And then ducked down under the water with it.

____

+++

____

Purah tilted the box to the left and the right, watching the water trickle out of its joints and seams and drip down on the floor below. She lifted an eyebrow, turning her gaze to Link. All he could offer was a helpless smile.

____

‘Wasn’t this... exactly how _you_ broke it the first time…?’

____

The smile was followed up by an equally helpless shrug. Purah briefly pinched the bridge of her nose.

____

‘Was it worth it? Did he even _listen_ to it, or did he just try to drown it?’

____

In an instant, his grin became that much warmer and brighter, hands cupping either side of Purah’s while she continued to hold onto the box. Magnified eyes blinked up at him, before realisation struck swift and sure; she chuckled and slowly shook her head. Link’s excitement was infuriatingly infectious.

____

‘You’re hopeless. Did I ever tell you that?’

____

‘ _Maybe once or twice._ ’

____

‘Try teaching your fish boyfriend that music boxes are allergic to water.’ Purah sighed heavily, heading over to the table and shoving aside a mess of metal and wires to clear a space for the soggy little contraption. ‘I will fix it, but if you break it again… so help me Hylia, I’m going to throw it at your head.’

____

+++

____

‘How is your hand? Taking to the new fingers well?’

____

‘As expected, Your Majesty.’ Ganon demonstrated a flexing motion for the Hylian king’s benefit, gritting his back teeth as the metal joints pulled against his skin. 'Still healing.’

____

Rhoam was tall and physically imposing -- for a Hylian. Around Ganon, he was required to tilt his head upwards to get a proper look at the still-bandaged digits. Though they had been freshly redressed just that morning, the cream fabric was already stained with the telltale red-yellow of blood. Infected blood.

____

A sharp _rat-tat_ against the door prevented any further comment, as Rhoam invited the newcomer inside. The guards at the the door hurried to comply.

____

Urbosa looked as beautiful as ever, but to Ganon it was the beauty of a desert wolf: wild, cunning, and ready to tear your throat out. If she hadn't chosen to pursue science over the more traditional Gerudo callings, he had no doubt she would have taken leadership of their people. Something Ganon could never aspire to.

____

‘Your Majesty -- Captain.’ Urbosa greeted each man in turn with a curt bow, barely dipping down for longer than a second each time. She was still wearing her lab coat over the top of her clothing, making it quite clear where her priorities lay. ‘Has it really been a month already?’

____

‘Indeed, Miss Urbosa. One whole month.’ Rhoam smiled and indicated that they both take a seat on the opposite side of his well-maintained desk. Ganon noticed, with considerable appreciation, that the provided chairs were appropriately sized for Gerudo people. ‘Have you prepared your report?’

____

Urbosa unclipped her Slate from her belt and flashed it in the king's direction. Ganon got a glimpse of the rows of text on the illuminated screen, but it did not phase him. It took considerable effort to swallow his smile as Rhoam held out his hand for the device, paying particular attention to the discomfort on Urbosa’s face. Reluctance dogged her every movement as she passed it over.

____

‘I would like to remind you that a month is a comparatively short period of time for such a unique investigation,’ Urbosa began, tone clipped. Ganon knew what this meant: they still had nothing conclusive to show for their work. ‘Anatomically, the asset is unlike anything we -- Gerudo, Hylian, or even Sheikah -- have ever studied before. Much of our initial research has been concentrating on looking into and documenting these differences.’

____

Rhoam cleared his throat, still pouring over the text on the screen.

____

‘So you've yet to determine what gives the creature its healing powers? If I've understood the principal correctly, even magic has its biological origins -- hence our ability to distill red potion from the essence of fairies.’ He looked up from his reading so that he could meet Urbosa's eyes; she nodded confirmation. ‘And yet…? This one eludes you?’

____

‘With all due respect, Your Majesty, the creation of red potion requires we _kill_ fairies for their vital components. I would rather not have to kill the asset for that purpose.’

____

‘Mmm, that is reasonable. Alright. You mentioned anatomical differences earlier -- anything we would be able to replicate for our benefit?’

____

It was extremely gratifying to see Urbosa squirming in her seat like a disciplined child. Perhaps she and her young protege were not so different from one-another after all -- when restricted from making use of their biting wit. Ganon folded his arms across his chest, leaning back in his chair. His time would come, but unlike Urbosa he had little to fear.

____

‘Again… It seems that getting to the bottom of things would require the death of the asset -- for the purpose of autopsy. And that would rather defeat the purpose of capturing it in the first place.’

____

‘Ah!’ Rhoam smiled again, sliding the Slate across the table for Urbosa's retrieval. Ganon could see that he had only scrolled a third of the way through the report. ‘The “purpose” of its capture, that's right. Seeing as you seem to be struggling to obtain the desired results, it's possibly time we started to consider the other potential uses for the asset.’

____

Urbosa leaned forwards to retrieve the device, all the while wearing an expression of open suspicion. Ganon noticed how she avoided looking over in his direction.

____

‘“Other potential uses”, sire?’

____

‘As a weapon,’ Ganon interjected, smoothly inserting himself into the conversation. Urbosa wouldn't be able to ignore him now. ‘I experienced firsthand--’ he allowed himself a grim smile ‘--the fighting potential of that monster. Those teeth are fully capable of shearing through bone. Take it off the sedatives and I'm fairly confident it could break its way out of that collar of yours no problem -- it would have broken the transport tank, given the chance. We already know it's able to heal _itself_ if nothing else; train it up well and it would be a formidable opponent.’

____

Even in the presence of King Rhoam, Urbosa seemed unable to contain her disgust any longer. Brow furrowed, blue-painted lip turned up into a cool sneer, she glanced from man to man.

____

‘Are your armies so incompetent that you would rather rely on -- in your words -- a “monster” to fight your battles for you? Are we to “train up” lizalfos and bokoblin next?”

____

‘Miss Urbosa.’ While Rhoam was still smiling, his voice carried the hint of a warning tone. ‘We are merely exploring alternative options. As a scientist, surely you can appreciate not letting something so valuable go to waste? Capturing and containing the asset was an expensive venture; it seems beneficial to maximise its potential. ’

____

‘I see,’ she replied, even though it was quite clear that she did not, ‘so, are you placing control over the project into the Captain’s hands now, Your Majesty?’ Her gesture towards Ganon’s direction was bordering on contemptuous.

____

‘Not quite. As you said, a month is only a short time, really. Continue with your research, learn everything you can -- perhaps the results you’re searching for are _just_ within your grasp. In the meantime, however, Ganon will begin his analysis to determine the asset’s suitability for warfare. I expect full cooperation from both you and your teams.’

____

Urbosa stood, legs of her chair scraping against the floor as she pushed it backwards. Again, her bow was stiff and without feeling; she did not even bother to offer one to Ganon this time. 

____

‘Thank you for your time, Sire.’

____

She turned heel and made her way towards the door. Leaving without dismissal from the king would be considered unthinkable for a Hylian, but as a Gerudo she was afforded some permissions. Still, both Ganon and Rhoam glanced over at one-another with looks of mild surprise.

____

‘King Rhoam,’ her voice came, unexpectedly calling over as she stood in the half-open door. ‘At the very least, I would ask that you come and visit the facility. Come and see the sensitive and intelligent creature that you're potentially dooming to warfare. Thank you.’

____

The door was closed behind her. They could hear the guards, obviously taken aback by this near lack of respect, muttering to one-another on the other side.

____

Ganon offered a crooked grin to the king, whose bushy brow was furrowed with frown lines.

____

‘Scientists are romantics by nature,’ he said, shrugging impassively, ‘they tend to fall in love with their work and start having fanciful notions. By all means, Your Majesty, come along and see the monster. You and I -- we're sensible people, sensibly detached from the situation. I can promise you, after meeting it face-to-face, it'll be difficult to feel anything beyond _disgust_.’

____

+++

____

Steam wafted and curled off of the surface of the water, leaving a fine, misty coating on the tiles and fixtures. Sinking further down into the bath, he became submerged up to the shoulders, letting out a soundless sigh of bliss. Bubbles shimmered on his skin like scales, reflecting the flickering candle light. The tips of his loosened hair spread out like a dark gold halo.

____

Bathing like this was a luxury reserved for the days when he didn't have to worry about rushing off to work. This time was entirely his own, and Link knew precisely how he preferred to spend it.

____

Before long, his hand began to stray down -- almost absently -- to rest on his stomach. Being immersed in hot water only served to make him more sensitive, the rough skin of his palm racking up goosebumps on his much softer belly. Sliding further down into the tub, he placed both feet on the bottom with his knees pushed up, water lapping at his chin and lips.

____

Unlike the franticness and frenzy of a work day, Link wasn't forced to jump straight to action. His touches were languid -- fleeting. The barest brush of the fingertips along the length of his stiffening cock, the momentary squeeze of pressure around the base. Dazed by lazy pleasure, Link allowed his eyes to flutter closed and his mind to wander.

____

In his imaginings, he was completely engulfed by water. Floating, weightless, at the whims of the current. No ground, no sky: only the vast expanse of blue.

____

Link curled his fingers around his cock and gave it a slow tug, briefly grounding himself in reality once more. Heat pooled in his belly and groin, toes curling against the smooth surface of the bathtub. Even in the water, he could feel how slick the head was, smearing pre against the pad of his thumb as he dragged the skin back. His breath caught in his throat.

____

Almost without realising, Link found that he was touching himself as though for the first time -- cautious, exploratory.

____

In his daydreams came a flash of red. Large hands -- large enough to completely cover his stomach. Hands tipped with sharp yellow claws that lightly dragged over the tops of his thighs…

____

Link gasped sharply and sat up straight, water splashing over the side of the tub and onto the floor. His heart hammered in his chest, breathing off kilter. While he'd taken Purah’s taunts and teasing all in good humour, it would seem that her words had had more impact than Link originally thought.

____

Link hunched over his knees, deeply conflicted. He'd just barely established a _friendship_ with the creature -- and now his overactive imagination was supplying visions of underwater ardour. By most people's definitions the creature was a _monster_ : huge, fierce, half-wild…

____

... intelligent, emotive, _gentle_. Link recalled how delicately he had taken the music box from him, the way his eyes had lit up with genuine pleasure at the sound of its song. Would he hold Link that carefully, as though afraid he might break? Would his face be illuminated with the same joy at Link's quickened breathing?

____

Eyelids shuttered closed, muscles slowly unbunching and relaxing once more. In his thoughts he was floating again, back braced against a broad, muscular chest, webbed hands roaming along the the backs of his thighs. It was just a fantasy, pure self-indulgence, but it gripped him like nothing else had.

____

What had started as something casual and vaguely detached swiftly devolved into the usual fervour -- and then some. One hand grabbed, white-knuckled, at the edge of the tub while he fisted his cock with the other. Each buck of the hips and twitch of the legs sent more water splashing onto the floor until there was barely enough to submerge him anymore, but Link was far too lost in the moment to really care. He made a soft almost-sound in the back of his throat: something halfway to a groan. The creature in his imaginings growled lowly against his ear, grazed those sharp teeth along the joint between shoulder and neck and--

____

Link came hard, spattering all over his exposed belly, hand working him through each following wave of pleasure. The sweetness of release stripped him of any lingering feelings of guilt or shame: in that moment, everything made perfect, blissful sense. What was it Zelda had said? “Stay out of trouble”?

____

Link rested his head against his forearm, stretched out across the edge of the tub. He tried -- and failed -- not to grin, body trembling with exertion and laughter.

____

Oh it was far, far too late for that.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes!! The cruise was a LOT of fun. I got engaged! [Here](https://twitter.com/pax_facere/status/970894451995328512) is my ring and [here](https://twitter.com/pax_facere/status/970940502534008832) is the box it came in!! I know right? I know right?! My wife-to-be is an incredible person and I'm so excited. 
> 
> Side-note, we had the option to watch The Shape of Water in our room on the cruise, but we didn't think watching it on a tiny, blurry TV screen would do it justice so we decided against it... I'm really looking forward to purchasing the new TSoW novel though, how about you guys?
> 
> AHEM. I hope you liked the chapter! Link & Sidon interactions are always going to be my favourite. And I got to write......... somethin' a little spicy.......... Which I haven't done in a long, LONG time so I hope it's not too terrible ahaha.
> 
> Thank you, as always, for your comments and kudos! It's so exciting that so many people are enjoying this fic.
> 
> Bye for now!


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